Ghosts of the Past
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: It's been ten years since the strike and Jack Kelly is long gone. Denton is traveling west for an article on the 1899 strike and David decides to join him. That's when old faces begin to resurface in interesting ways. Eventual Jack/David!
1. Chapter 1

The dry, arid desert-like landscape whizzed past David's window as their train barreled onward. His riding companion was seated beside him, hat in his lap, and eyes closed in a deep sleep. In David's lap was the book he'd brought to pass the time, but whenever he tried to read, he found it difficult to concentrate. This was especially true now.

New Mexico. For them, it was only a stopping point until they reached the end of the rail line. From there, they would hop on another train and make their way to Nevada where word had it Medda was setting up a show in some blossoming city called Las Vegas. They'd probably spend the night here and leave early tomorrow morning. There wouldn't be much time for sightseeing or searching the town.

That didn't mean being here didn't pique David's interests.

_That's ridiculous_, David said, scolding himself. After all, Jack had been gone for almost a decade. If he'd wanted anyone to know where he was he would have written. But he hadn't. All these years without a letter or anything. Most of the guys from the strike assumed he was dead, that he had set out for Santa Fe, but along the way his smart mouth had gotten him into trouble and for once in his life he couldn't talk his way out of it.

After Jack had left, David had gotten on with his life, as had many of the other boys. It was almost as though Jack had been the glue that bound them together. David had continued his studies, earning himself excellent marks in school. His studious nature and marvelous ambition had caught the eye of a Mr. Edward Thatcher, a local doctor who had a fortune to his name. He recognized that David could do great things with his life, but his family lacked the proper funds to send him to a prestigious university. So Mr. Thatcher had made an offer. He would take David under his wing as an apprentice, all the while paying for his schooling. After he graduated, David would work for him as a doctor, effectively paying off his debt. The Jacobs' had been overwhelmed by the man's generosity and David hadn't hesitated to say yes.

He smiled sadly. That past January, Mr. Thatcher had died of a heart attack. Having been a confirmed bachelor, Thatcher had left half of his estate to various charities and the other half to David, along with his business. It was then that a face from the past had popped into his life…

* * *

"I'm sorry, but we're closed for the day," David said as he heard the door open. It had been a difficult week for him, what with the death of his benefactor and dear friend. Between making the arrangements for the funeral, sorting out the estate, and still treating patients, David was in no mood to work overtime. "If you leave your name and number, I'll be sure to see you early tomorrow."

"It looks like David has come a long way since slaying Goliath."

The voice made his hair stand up on end, but in a good way. He hadn't heard that voice in…how long? "Denton," he said before even turning around. Sure enough, there stood the newspaper man who had become a friend to him and every other newsie fighting the great fight against Pulitzer. His hair was beginning to grey around the roots and crows feet crinkled along his eyes, but he still had the same mild and kind demeanor he'd always had.

"How are you, David? Or should I say Dr. Jacobs?"

"I'm always David to my friends."

After the strike had ended, Denton had returned to his work for the New York Sun. Despite the positive outcome for the newsies, Denton had still been made a War Correspondent, something he and the newsies assumed was punishment for his aiding in their win. But Denton hadn't minded; he'd been happy to see a positive outcome for them in their struggles.

"How are things around here?" Denton asked, stepping further into the room. "I've been everywhere around the world these days and all I kept hoping was that I'd come back to New York."

"Things are the same," David said. "Les just got married this past November. His wife's father owns a small deli and Les works there. Sarah and her husband are expecting their third child soon. Ma and Pa are still going strong. And I'm working here."

Denton nodded. "And what of the other newsies?"

David shrugged. "We lost touch. Last I heard Racetrack got a job at the tracks and I think I've seen Mush working on one of the new railroads. Everyone else is a just a ghost of the past."

"Maybe," Denton said. "But some ghosts come back."

"What are you getting at?"

Denton dropped a notepad down on the table in front of David. On it were written the names of almost every newsboy to have taken part in the strike. Some names were circled, others had stars next to them, and one or two were crossed out. "It's been almost ten years since the strike, David, and I've convinced the Sun to let me run a story about it. I want to track down everyone who made a difference in the strike and see where they've gotten today. Remember Specs? He got himself a nice job working in a library in Pennsylvania. Spot married some fisherman's daughter and spends most of his days out on the water. Crutchy took over the Lodging House after the former owner passed on."

"Kloppman," David said, recalling the kindly man's name. He remembered hearing he'd died. "Denton, how'd you find all of this out?"

"I'm a reporter," he replied with a grin, "it's my job to stick my nose in other people's business."

David grabbed his coat and nodded his head to the door, indicating that Denton follow him out. As he locked the door behind him, he said, "It sounds like it'll be an interesting story. I'll have to keep an eye out for it."

"Well, it's not complete. I mean, I've found most of the boys. Some still live in New York, some have moved. Some have wives and families and a couple are dead. But I'm still missing some people, including the two key players in the entire thing. Though, I've found one," he added, gesturing to David.

"Good look finding the other," he replied wryly.

"I heard Jack left a year after the strike."

"He did. Packed up his things and hopped on a train."

"You sound bitter."

"I'm not bitter. Jack didn't owe me anything and I would never ask him to stay if he didn't want to. I'm worried."

"Why?"

"Because I haven't heard anything from him all of these years."

"And you think he might be dead?"

David nodded. "I'd rather not go snooping only to find something I don't like." He slipped on his coat and put on his hat. "If Jack is still alive, he obviously has reason to not have written all of these years. If he's not alive…" he trailed off. "Let's just say I'm happy with my life and don't need any more bad news. It was nice to see you again, though, Denton. I look forward to reading the story," he said, brushing past the older man on his way out.

"I'm going out west to meet up with a ghost from the past." Denton's words stopped him in his tracks. "I thought you might like to come."

"Why?"

"Because you're as much a part of this story as I am."

"No, I mean why are you going out west? Who are you meeting?" He was on edge. Was Jack alive? Had Denton known all this time? Why had Jack written to him but not to David?

"Medda, Blink, and Bumlets." Denton's answer deflated him. "After Irving Hall closed, she put together her own show and took it on the road. Blink and Bumlets signed on as dancers and crew men."

David smiled at that. Of all the boys he'd known, those two had seemed the most likely to try careers in show business. Blink craved attention and Bumlets had always had a flair for dancing.

"She's set up out there," Denton continued. "I think she's in Utah this week, but next week she'll be in Nevada. She invited me to come along and asked that I bring you too."

"You don't need me there."

"It would be nice to have a companion. Besides, I'm sure Medda, Blink, and Bumlets would love to see you again."

David shook his head. "I've got a life set up out here. I have responsibilities and a job."

"You can't take some time off? I'm sure there are other doctors who can take your patients, at least for a little while. Meanwhile, we'll head out west and visit. I hear it's nice out there, the kind of place you want to see at least once before you die."

The idea did sound tempting. David couldn't remember the last time he'd gone out of state nor did he think he'd ever taken a real vacation. He'd seen picture of the western part of America. It was barren and hot, but beautiful all the same. Imagine seeing a cactus up close or being able to look up at night and see nothing but a sky full of twinkling stars.

"I'm not saying you should do this for me," Denton told him, "but for yourself. I get the feeling that when Jack left he took with him everything he ever taught you. Yes, he did teach you a thing or two," Denton said after David shot him a puzzling look. "Don't think I didn't notice how you were so much more relaxed and how you had the guts to not do everything by the rules. Now you've reverted backwards."

"And how would going out west change things?"

Denton shrugged. "Maybe it wouldn't. But don't you at least want to try? What if he is out there? So what if he's never written to you? At least you'll know for sure. Isn't knowing better than constantly wondering?"

David was silent. Then, he gave his old friend a curt nod and walked off without a word.

* * *

_Obviously he said something that struck a nerve_, David thought. _I wouldn't be sitting here on my way out west otherwise_.

The next day David had called on Denton. He'd simply asked when the train left and how long they would be gone. Now, here he was, in New Mexico and on his way even further. It was a bit exciting, but David wouldn't admit that.

"How much longer?" Denton asked. He'd just woken up and was rubbing his eyes.

"Not sure," David said, consulting his pocket watch. "I'd guess maybe another hour. I'll ask someone at the station where the closest lodging is. Then I'll probably sleep until dinner." He gave a wide yawn for good effect.

Denton was skeptical. "You slept last night just fine. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were taking precautions to avoid possibly running into someone."

"Who me? Afraid of running into someone?" David asked sheepishly. "I just want to pace myself. I'm not sixteen anymore."

"And you think I am?"

Before their conversation could continue, the train lurched forward violently, causing them to fall from their seats along with most of the other passengers. Luggage fell every which way and David could hear shouting nearby.

"Are you okay?" Denton asked as he righted himself. David nodded.

"What's going on? Are we derailed?"

"Doubtful. The train just seems to have stopped. Might be obstruction on the railway."

The door to their car flew open and four men stepped on, each holding a gun in one hand and a sack in the other. They donned large cowboy hats and their faces were covered from the bridge of the nose downward with bandanas. David had read about such men and he was suddenly very nervous.

"Shaddup!" one of the men shouted to the passengers. "This is a hold-up! We don't want to hurt any of you, but don't think we won't. Now empty your pockets and bags into my associates' sacks and we won't have any trouble, understand?"

The other three men began walking down along the aisles, holding their sacks open toward the frightened passengers. No one attempted to fight them, figuring it easier to comply. What were a few material items when weighed against one's own life?

When one of the men arrived to their row, David and Denton begrudgingly handed over their money, watches, and other items of value. David could have money wired to them when they got off at their stop, though it would take some time.

"Hurry up!" the ringleader bellowed to his men. "Stop your dillydallying!"

"Hey, we're moving fast as we can!" one of the men dared retort.

David glanced out the window. There were four horses—likely belonging to the robbers-- tied to the handle of the train's stairs. Once they'd relieved all passengers of their belongings, they would jump atop the horses and make their getaway before the conductor, who was probably unconscious from a hard blow to the head, had a chance to recover and call for help. At least, David hoped he was just unconscious.

"Let's get going!" the ringleader shouted. His three goons reconvened at the head of the car. He tipped his hat to the passengers. "Thank you, ladies and gents, for you cooperation!"

But before they could step through the door and make their escape, the back door of the car slid open and two more men stepped on. They too wore wide-brimmed hats, but their faces weren't covered. Each had a rifle in his grasp and pointed it at the robbers.

"Drop the guns, boys!" one of the men yelled.

"It's the Pinks!" cried one of the robbers.

"I said drop your guns!"

"You're outnumbered, swine! Now be good and put your guns down so nobody gets hurt."

The passengers, seeing that they were now in the line of fire between the two gun-toting groups of men, had all hit the floor, shielding themselves from stray bullets. Denton and David were pressed against the wall of the train, out of sight from both the robber and the "Pinks."

"Come on, Roberts. I know you're still nursing that bum leg from the last time I hit you. I can tell by the way you walk. Just put the guns down and we won't have to kill you."

David frowned. That voice sounded like one he hadn't heard in years. He crawled forward carefully and tried to peek around the seat.

"David!" Denton admonished in a harsh whisper. He grabbed him and pulled him back. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Didn't you hear him? Didn't you hear his voice?"

That was when a series of shots rang out, followed by screams echoing all around them. It was impossible to tell who had shot whom and if anyone was hurt. The cries of other passengers didn't help matters. David heard the door at the front slam closed and he risked a peek.

The robbers were gone, probably in the process of mounting their horses and making a clean getaway. David crawled forward and stopped. There was blood staining the carpet and the wood of the door. He smiled. Maybe it hadn't been such a clean getaway.

"David!"

He turned and saw Denton standing over two bodies lying on the other side of the car. He rushed over, pushing through the throng of curious passengers. Seeing the threat had fled, many of them had come out of their hiding to investigate.

"This one's dead," Denton told him, pointing to a fair-haired man who had a bullet wound in his chest. "But this one's still got a pulse. Looks like he could use a doctor."

David knelt down and lifted the other man's head. Then he let out an audible gasp. He couldn't believe his eyes. The unconscious man who lay before him had a scraggly beard and mustache and his darkened hair hung rebelliously in his face. But David knew that face. He removed the man's hat and brushed the hair out of his face to get a better look.

There was no doubt in his mind; the man was Jack Kelly.

* * *

**AN:** This fic is a work in progress and it was purchased by a _Newsies_ fan during the LJ Help Chile auction. The prompt for the story came from her and she requested that I post it elsewhere so she could keep better track of it, so here it is!


	2. Chapter 2

"Why the glum face, Davy?"

A frowning David Jacobs looked up into his friend's face. Jack's eyes twinkled playfully, matching the smirk which seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face. Over his shoulder was slung a worn bag filled with all of his possessions (and there weren't many).

"I just never thought you'd actually be leaving."

"I told you I was."

"Yeah, I know you did, but I kept figuring you'd turn around and come back like last time."

The boys were standing at the train station. Jack had already purchased his ticket and now he was waiting for the 2:45 train. David had walked with him, certain that at any moment Jack would grin that stupid grin of his and say he'd changed his mind, that he didn't need Santa Fe anymore. He had New York and the guys and David. What did he need with deserts and cowboys?

When Jack had handed over the money and taken the ticket, the cold, hard reality struck David like a punch from Morris Delancy while he was wearing his brass knuckles. He'd felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. With money so hard to come by, Jack wouldn't waste it on something he didn't intend to go through with.

This wasn't a game anymore. There would be no turning back this time.

"Things are changing, Davy. The world, us…nothing can stay the same."

"Some things should."

Jack rolled his eyes at David's gloomy demeanor. "You ain't gonna get all weepy on me, huh? I didn't see you this mad when Snitch went off to Maryland with that Maggie girl and her family or when Specs took off for wherever the hell he ended up."

"They weren't my friends the way you are," David pointed out. Though they'd grown closer during the strike, most of the newsies were nothing more than acquaintances to David, the kind of guys you nod to politely or give a quick hello when passing them on the street. Some, like Racetrack and Spot and Crutchy, he considered a bit closer, like the guys you'd maybe grab a bite of lunch with if you had the money and the time.

But Jack was different from them all. Jack was the closest friend he'd ever had. In a way, their relationship went even beyond friendship, but David couldn't quite explain how. It was as though there was this unspoken connection between them that only they could sense.

"Everybody's leaving," Jack said. "They're getting on with their lives. I don't want to feel like I missed my opportunity to do what I always said I'd do."

"Why is it so important to you to do this?" David asked. He'd never understood Jack's fascination with Santa Fe or New Mexico or the west in general. As far as he could tell it was dry and hot and had a large amount of desert areas. People might live miles away from each other. How could he compare that with the hustle and bustle of New York where you couldn't take a step outside without seeing a familiar face?

Jack gave him a hard glare. "I don't need to explain myself to you. Why can't it be as simple as me wanting to go? Why does everything need a reason? I gotta do what I gotta do."

"Can't it wait? I'll be out of school in a year. If you just wait, I could go with you."

"I don't think you'd like it out there, David."

"Why is that?"

"You're too smart for that lifestyle."

He snorted. "I didn't realize there was an IQ limit."

It was 2:35. If the train was on time, it wouldn't be long before they'd be saying their good-byes. David was racking his brain, trying to figure out how to convince Jack to stay. The very idea of New York without a Jack Kelly in it was unfathomable.

Jack lit a cigarette, but he didn't smoke it immediately. Instead, he held it between his fingers, twirling it around and admiring the soft glow of the smoldering tip. "You're a smart guy, Davy. You got more brains than Pulitzer's got money and there ain't a doubt that you've got a future, and a good one."

He paused to take a drag, letting the smoke out slowly. "Me, I'm like my pop. Maybe not exactly like him, but enough that I know how my life'll end up, and I'm okay with that. I never had no great ambitions or nothing; I just wanted to live one day at a time and see where that took me. But I won't let you end up the same way. I'd hate myself too much for doing that."

"No one's future is predetermined. You choose how you end up. If you don't want to be like your father, you don't have to be."

He smiled broadly. "It ain't a good idea to mess with destiny, Davy." With that, he took another long drag on his cigarette. In the distance they could hear the rumbling of an approaching train. "Things will happen the way they're supposed to."

"How can you be so sure?"

Jack dropped the cigarette and stamped it out. "I've got faith." He grabbed his pitiful bag and stood to wait near the edge of the platform.

"Will you at least write?" David asked, following suit. He had to raise his voice as the train got closer.

"Of course," Jack said, also getting louder. "I'll write you every week."

"And maybe I could come visit you, huh?"

Jack didn't reply to that, pretending like he hadn't heard the question over the roar of the train. David didn't ask again.

After the train had come to a halt, Jack ascended the stairs and handed his ticket to the man. He turned to David and gave him a mock salute. "I'll see you another day, Davy. When you're some famous doctor or lawyer or writer, try to remember me when everyone's interviewing you about the strike. And make sure they use the name Jack Kelly!"

David lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave. "I will," he promised. He stood there, unmoving, as the train rolled away from the platform.

* * *

That bittersweet memory was what was going through Jack's mind as it was suspended in a dreamlike state. The train had continued on its way, taking with it the body of the dead Pinkerton Agent as well as the wounded man David and Denton had confirmed was Jack Kelly. He'd been unconscious as David had worked on his wound—a blessing, in David's mind, considering the pain he'd be in otherwise—and together David and Denton had carefully laid him across their seats, using a folded coat as a makeshift pillow. David remained kneeling on the floor while Denton stood nearby, handing him the necessary tools. After managing to extract the bullet from where is had hit him just below the shoulder (a couple of inches to the right and it would have gone straight through his heart), David bandaged the wound best he could using the gauze he'd managed to scrounge up and tying it with Jack's own bandana.

He gave Denton instructions to keep pressure on it and then went to talk to the train conductor.

"How soon until we arrive, sir?"

"Hard to say, lad," the man said. He'd obviously been shaken up by the ordeal and a trail of sweat continued to run along his face. "I'd estimate at least a half hour, assuming we don't run into any more trouble."

David frowned. "With all due respect, sir, I've got a wounded man out there. We need to get to a hospital quickly."

"I'll get you there when I get you there. Until then, anything you need that we have is yours to use," the man said as politely as he could. "I'll ask my men to assist you in any way possible."

It wasn't the answer he'd wanted but it would have to do. David returned to Denton and his new patient. "At least half an hour before we get there," he informed Denton. "How is Jack doing?"

"He's still out, but he's breathing."

David sat on the floor beside Jack, taking over for Denton. He kept his hand on the wound, pressing down to reduce bleeding. All the while, he studied Jack's face.

He had aged, of course, as had David. Jack had also achieved a more rugged look with his newly-acquired (new to David, at least) facial hair and the longer brown hair which was matted to his forehead. David reached up with his free hand and brushed the hair away from Jack's face. He didn't look like a sweet and charming newsboy anymore; now he looked like a rough and tough man of the west, like a real cowboy.

_I guess he is a real cowboy, in a way_, David thought. _The difference is that instead of lassoing cattle, he lassos criminals_. He almost smiled at the thought of Jack twirling a lasso above his head and then casting it out over the quartet of men who had robbed them.

"Blood's beginning to seep through," Denton pointed out. David looked down and saw patches of red bleeding through the fabric.

"Go get more gauze or whatever you can find," he said softly. He pushed down on the wound, eliciting a groan of pain from his patient. Jack sucked in air between his clenched teeth and David could feel his body trembling beneath his hands.

"Jack?" he said hesitantly. "Jack, wake up!"

Another groan of pain came as Jack clenched his fists tightly. He let out a string of expletives that David would dare not repeat in polite company.

"I know it hurts, Jack, but the worst of it's over. I need to keep pressure on it so you don't bleed out."

Jack heard and recognized David's voice, but he assumed it was still a part of his dream, a memory of the long past. Eyes still closed, he shook his head slowly, trying to rid his brain of the memory and of the voice. But it wasn't working.

"We'll be back to Santa Fe soon and we can get you into a hospital," David said. Jack was beginning to sweat feverishly and he couldn't figure out why. Beneath his closed lids, David could see Jack's eyes shaking and trembling as much as his body. What was going on in his mind?

"Gotta do…" he murmured. "Gotta do what I gotta do."

"What?"

"Nothing can stay the same…"

"Jack, are you dreaming? It's me!"

"Of course," he muttered softly, still not waking. "Yeah, I'll write you every week."

This all sounded so familiar to David even though he hadn't heard it in nine years. Those had been among Jack's last words to him. And, seeing as how in all those years he hadn't received so much as a telegram from the man, obviously they had been just words and nothing more.

He shook his head, releasing the bitter thoughts. Now was not the time for arguing over who said they would do what. "Jack, I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but this isn't the New York train station and we're not teenagers anymore. It's been nine years. You've been shot and I need you to wake up."

His words broke through the haze of Jack's mind and struck a chord. He knew he wasn't a teenager anymore, but how else could he explain David's presence now? They hadn't spoken since he left and he'd intended to keep it that way. Where had he gone wrong?

Slowly, Jack peeled his eyelids open and peeked through. Sure enough, there was the angular face with the piercing blue eyes and unruly brown curls that he'd come to see in his dreams, no matter how hard he tried to forget it. David had gotten older, of course, but he still looked young and boyish with his clean-shaven face and pale skin. His lips were moving—Jack couldn't take his eyes off those lips—but no sound was actually coming out, at least not to Jack's ears.

"Jack," he repeated, giving him a gentle shake, "are you listening to me?"

The sound came back on in Jack's mind just in time for him to hear that. He closed his eyes, the sudden reality of the situation hitting him.

David Jacobs had finally tracked him down.


	3. Chapter 3

"How's it going, Davy?"

It infuriated David how, after so many years apart, Jack could greet him in such a nonchalant manner. It was a gift he had.

"Pretty good," David replied in a level tone. "I'm a doctor now. Of course, you would have known that had you ever bothered to write."

Jack ignored the bitter barb. "A doctor, huh? How 'bout that. I always figured you'd be the one of us to get a real job."

Denton hurried back with a handful of material. "No more gauze, but I talked a few people into giving me their handkerchiefs." He stopped in his tracks when he saw Jack's eyes open.

"Well, well," Jack groaned, "it's just one big reunion, ain't it? Hey, Denton. I'd wave, but my arm don't seem to want to move."

"No wave necessary, Jack," Denton replied diplomatically. "I see you made it to Santa Fe after all."

Jack grunted and tried to sit up, but David pushed him back down. "Lay down," he said forcefully. "I got the wound covered and I think I've stopped most of the blood flow. Sitting up might cause more damage at the moment."

"With all due respect, Dr. Jacobs, but I think I know my body better than you." Despite his snide remark, Jack did as he'd been told and remained lying down. "So what happened to me?"

"Gunshot," David said. "You were in a standoff with some robbers."

"Oh," Jack said with an angry groan, "_them_. Those dirtbags have been giving us the slip for three years now. I got one of 'em in the leg really good a few months back, but he got away. Me and my partner, Willy…" He stopped mid-sentence and tried to sit up once again.

"Jack!" David admonished. "I told you to lay down!"

"Where's Willy?" Jack asked, not even listening. He managed to push himself up on his good arm and craned his neck. "Did he go on after them?"

David and Denton exchanged looks. Neither wanted to be the bearer of bad news.

"Well?" Jack asked, missing the somber expressions on their faces.

"He didn't make it," Denton said in a strained voice.

"What do you mean he didn't make it?"

"He's dead, Jack," David told him bluntly. "A bullet hit him in the heart."

Jack's mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed. "And those Parker boys, they got away?"

"Parker?" David asked. "If you're talking about the train robbers, yes, they got away."

"You let them just get away? Just like that?" Jack snarled. He was pushing himself up to sitting position and batted away David's hands when they tried to push him back down. "So some guys death doesn't mean anything to you?"

"That's not what I said!" David balled his hands into fists, suddenly feeling the urge to sock Jack in the mouth. "Look, I'm a doctor, not some police officer! How do you expect me to have taken down four armed men?"

"I don't know," Jack said as he pulled away and began to stand. "All I know is that my partner is dead and the bastards responsible are still out there while we sit here talking about it. That don't work for me, Davy."

No sooner had he stood than a wave of nausea and dizziness flowed over him. He tried to take a step, but his legs buckled beneath him. He would have hit the floor had David and Denton not slipped their arms beneath him. They moved him back to the seat and put him down, trying to be careful to the wound.

David was already angry enough--an anger he'd been carrying around with him all of these years. The last thing he needed was to have his so-called friend—the same friend whose life he'd saved, despite having been all but abandoned nine years earlier--verbally attack him for something that wasn't his fault. David had always had a strong and quick temper, but this time he was boiling inside. "You know what doesn't work for me, Jack? You running away from me and the other newsies without a single word!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Look, Davy, if this is about me leaving, I'm sorry that you're so dependant on me that you can't live without me, but--"

"It's not about you leaving!" David shouted so loudly he attracted the attention of every other passenger. "I get that you felt you had to leave. You think you're the only one who felt you had to get out? God, Jack! Get over yourself! We've all felt trapped at times; you're not the only one!"

"You just don't get it. You have no idea what I was going through."

"You're right, Jack, I don't! I don't know because you refused to tell me! Not only that, but you spent every day since then hiding from me!"

"Hiding from you?"

"You did everything you could to cut me off from you. I offered to come along, but you said no. I asked if you'd write and you said yes, and yet I never got a single letter from you. Not even a telegram! I'd have written to you, but I had no idea where to send the letter. Though, now I get the feeling that even if I had, you wouldn't have responded. You wanted to cut off all ties with me and the others, and that's what you did."

Jack was silent for a moment, his eyes trained on the ground. Finally, he asked, "What makes you think I cut off ties with all the other guys?"

"None of them seemed to have heard from you."

"Maybe you weren't talking to the right ones."

The comment only fueled the fire within David. "So is that supposed to make me feel better? Great! You thought some of the others were more important than me. How about Racetrack and Spot? Even if you didn't want me knowing where you were, why not tell them?"

"Hey, I got my reasons for doing what I did," He snarled. "I don't need to explain them to you or to anyone else." He tried again to stand, this time with far more success, though he had to keep the hand of his good arm grasping on the seat to stay upright. "Tell the conductor to stop the train. I'm getting off here."

David grabbed his hand and held him back. "Don't be stupid, we're in the middle of nowhere."

"You may not know where, but I do. I know this place like the back of my hand. I have a duty to catch those bastards and no one—not you, not Denton, not anyone—is going to stop me from my duty. Now let me go."

"Jack, we'll be in town soon," David pled, his grip still tight. "Once we get there, you can get better help for your injury and then you can go back out and find them."

"No! I know it's been a long time, David, but I thought you of all people would remember that I'm not the type to wait it out. Now stop this damn train!"

"You'll die out there!"

"I don't care!" Jack retorted, pulling free from David's hold.

If there was one area in which Jack and David were well matched, it was stubbornness. Neither liked to back down from a fight, especially a fight with each other. This usually resulted in some sort of a compromise.

David stood in his place, watching Jack slowly make his way to the head of the train. His wound was beginning to bleed through again, but he paid it no heed, not even when he lost his balance and fell into the wall. David righted him.

"Fine, I won't try to talk you out of getting yourself killed here, but at least let me tend to this," he said, his tone indicating that he would not take no for an answer. He gathered the handkerchiefs Denton had gotten and began pressing them against the wound one by one. Jack took deep inhales to counteract the pain, but he made no other noise but that. David finally had a nice layer of makeshift gauze and he retied the bandana to hold it down.

"There, you did your good deed," Jack said. "Though if you figure I'm gonna die anyway, you just wasted a lot of time and handkerchiefs."

He turned and pushed through the train to the conductor. David and Denton were close behind. "Stop the train," he said after shoving open the door. "Stop it. I need to get off."

"Son, I've already had one delay today and I'm not about to have another. We should be in town shortly. I'm sure whatever you need can wait until then."

"No, it can't! Now I am ordering you as a Pinkerton Agent to stop this train now!" If the conductor needed any more of an incentive, Jack flashed the badge that was attached to his trousers, also flashing the gun that was tucked there in the process. "Do I need to tell you again?"

The conductor wasn't happy, but he did as told, pulling the train along to a bumpy stop. In the car behind them they could hear the roars of angry passengers. "I'll be off in a second," Jack promised. He turned and shoved past David and Denton.

"So you're going to let him go?" Denton asked as he watched Jack hasten back to the riding car as quickly as he could.

"What else can I do? He doesn't want my opinion and he certainly doesn't want my friendship. He's going to go after them no matter what I say. You know how stubborn he is."

"Yes, and I know how stubborn _you_ are."

David glared at him. "Well, this is one time I'm not going to argue with Jack. Why should I? What'd he ever do for me?"

"More than you seem to give him credit for," Denton muttered as David stormed off. Hands in his pockets, he followed behind.

Jack was grabbing his hat and jacket from where David had placed them while removing the bullet and tending to the wound. He threw the coat over his shoulder and placed the hat atop his head. "Where are our horses?"

"We had to leave them behind," David told him.

Jack snorted. "Great. Thanks for that."

"Oh, well I'm sorry that we couldn't fit them on board! How stupid of me to think more about getting you to a hospital than about making sure we brought your stupid horses!"

"I didn't ask you to get me to a hospital!" Jack spat out. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've wasted enough time as it is, no thanks to you."

The door had already been opened for him and he hastened down the steps with nothing by a gun and the clothes on his back. He didn't even have water.

David watched from the window, a mixture of emotions raging within. He was angry at Jack and hurt by his former friend's words, but he was also relieved that Jack was still alive and concerned for his wellbeing. The angel and devil were sitting on either shoulder, duking it out over what he should do. The odd thing was that David couldn't quite tell which was of them fighting for which option.

"I'm gonna go," David said suddenly.

"What?" Denton asked.

"He won't stay, so I'll go."

"David! You'll die just like him!"

"No," he said, "I won't. And if I do, so what? Do you realize that since the strike ended, I haven't done anything that was really exciting?" He grabbed his suitcase and began pulling things out and placing them in a separate bag. "Sure, Jack hasn't been a great friend these past few years, but maybe part of why I've been so angry at him these years is that I resented him for going out and living his life the way he wanted to while I fell into what everyone else thought was best for me."

"This isn't the way to get excitement, David! When we get back to New York you can quit your job and travel the world for all I care, but I can't let you wander out to your death with Jack!"

"I'm doing this," David said firmly. "You were right, I am stubborn, so there's no point in you even arguing."

Denton sighed. He hated to admit it, but he knew David was right. "I guess I should come too."

David shook his head. "You keep going. When you get into town, tell the authorities. Try and give them a good idea of where we jumped off. I'll try to keep Jack from moving around too much. And don't feel like you have to stick around. Keep going into Nevada. I'm sure Medda and the guys will be expecting you."

"Fine," Denton said. He grabbed his own things and began rooting through them. He pulled out a canteen that he had packed on a whim. Years spent traveling had taught him that not all areas of the world had an abundance of water. It was best to be prepared. "Here, take this."

It was on the tip of his tongue to decline it, but David, though stubborn, wasn't stupid. He and Jack would need that more than Denton would. "Thanks," he said softly as he stuffed it in the bag. "I'll be fine," he added, catching sight of Denton's worried expression. "If I'm not there with him, Jack doesn't stand a chance. He'll be dead before sunset."

The train whistle blew and it slowly began to move. "Better hurry," Denton said, nodding toward the front of the train. "I get the feeling that conductor won't want to stop again until we reach the stop."

Denton was right, but the conductor didn't refuse the request. He let out a string of select expletives as he stopped the train for what he hoped would be the final time. David thanked him as he sprinted out, diminished luggage in hand, and hopped out into the blistering sun.

Strange as it may seem, he couldn't help but feel energized by the idea of what was to come.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack stumbled forward despite the sweltering sun which pounded down upon him. His wound was beginning to throb and he felt himself growing weak, but he surged on with deeply rooted strength. He had to keep going if for no reason other than to avenge Willy's death.

Stupid David. What the hell did he know anyway? He may have been able to go to school and learn a lot there, but when it came to street smarts and common sense David was dumb as a doornail, due mostly to his overly sheltered life. It was hard to understand real life when you spent most of the time being shielded from it.

David made decisions with his brain; Jack made decisions with his heart. And at that moment Jack's heart was telling him to surge forward. He was tough and nothing was going to stop him from doing whatever the hell he wanted. Those bastards weren't going to get away with this, not if he had any say in it.

"Jack!"

He stopped momentarily. Was he hearing things?

"Damn it, Jack!" the voice shouted. "Stop, would you? At least let me catch up!"

Yeah, it was David alright. Jack stopped for a couple of seconds, but only because he needed a breather (at least that's what he told himself). He could feel his knees buckling beneath him and before he know it he was lying face down on the hard ground.

David sprinted the rest of the distance and knelt down beside Jack. "I told you," he snarled irritably. "Never could listen, though, could you?"

Jack let out a moan of pain as David rolled him onto his back. "Were you always this annoying or was I just more patient back then?"

"Shut up," David hissed as he pulled the canteen from his bag. He twisted off the top and shoved it toward Jack's mouth, ordering, "Drink."

Rather than argue, Jack opened his mouth and accepted the stream of lukewarm water. He suddenly realized how dehydrated he was. When was the last time he'd had something to drink? That morning? Yesterday? When you were hunting down dirtbags you couldn't take much time to worry about things like eating and drinking. Vigilance required a lot of focus.

"What're you doing, Davy?" he asked when his throat was sufficiently moistened. "Get back on the damn train. Go."

David ignored him as he tended to the wound, undoing the buttons on Jack's shirt. "If you don't let this heal you might lose agility in your arm." He poured some kind of liquid onto a rag and dabbed at the wound.

Jack hissed in pain. "That's smarts!"

"Don't be a baby."

"You see me crying?" Jack shot back with a snarl. His breathing was becoming ragged, but not from exhaustion. It was the sensation of feeling David's fingers running across his skin that had his heart racing. It had taken him by surprise and brought back a flood of memories that he'd hidden away years ago. He wanted to push the hand away, but he didn't for a few reasons: one, he didn't have the strength, two, David was trying to help, and three (and this was one he would never admit), he kind of liked the feeling.

David tied off the redressed wound once more. "Now be careful this time, will you?"

"Yes, mother."

"Don't be a smartass."

"Funny. You used to tell me not to be a dumb ass. Make up your mind."

Not in the mood to continue the childish spat, David let the comment go without a retort. He dropped his things back into the bag and tossed it to the side. Jack was struggling to sit up and Jack helped him to avoid the wound reopening. He noticed how Jack was clumsily trying to re-button his shirt. "Here, let me," he offered, reaching his hand out.

"No!" Jack bellowed as he jerked away. "I'm not an infant. I can do it myself."

"I was just trying to help."

"Yeah, well I never asked for help."

"Fine!" David shouted, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Do it yourself then!"

Satisfied with the answer, Jack continued the process of buttoning his shirt, soon finding it to be more difficult than he'd thought. He was too proud to ask for help, though, especially after that display of male bravado, so he continued fiddling with them, getting all but the top two done. Those, he figured, weren't worth the hassle, so he let them be.

"There," he said with a smug grin. "Did it."

David was less than impressed. "Congratulations. Now what?"

"Now I go back to doing what I was doing and you leave."

"I didn't jump off that train just to turn right back around. I'm coming with you wherever you go."

"You ain't coming with me."

"Try and stop me."

This time it was Jack's turn to get angry. His face was already red from the sweat and energy, but it grew even deeper. "Damn it, Davy, this ain't a game! You think that 'cause we went against Pulitzer and won you're invincible or something? This ain't the same! These men have guns and they will kill you if they think it necessary! I won't let you put yourself in danger!"

"You know what'll happen to you if I _don't_ come, Jack?" David replied, his a likewise shade of crimson. "You'll probably die! You want to get revenge, I'm not going to stop you, but you won't accomplish anything if you try and do all of this by yourself. I'm not stupid. I know what kinds of people these are and I have no intention of trying to face them, but that doesn't mean I can't watch out for you." He leaned down and snatched up his bag, tossing it angrily over his shoulders. The contents of the bag bore the brunt of his anger. "From now until you head into town, I'm going to be your shadow. I will be with you at all times to make sure you're not hurt. Once you're back in town and in the hands of another doctor you can ignore, I'll leave and never contact you again if that's what you want, but don't think for a second that I'm letting you out of my sight until then. If that's a problem, suck it up and deal with it."

Jack was visibly taken aback by David's outburst. Sure, he'd seen David get angry, had heard his vitriolic words being slung at him like mud, but there had always been a slight sense of uncertainty and doubt behind what he said. This time Jack knew that David meant every word. There was a wild passion in his eyes along with a steely determination.

"Wow," he said as he slowly found his voice. "When did you finally grow a pair?"

David chose not to respond to that jab. "You know this area better than I do. What's our best bet for shelter?"

"We could probably find a cave along one of the mountains. It won't be nearly as comfortable as what I'm sure you're used to, but it's better than sleeping outside. You didn't happen to throw a blanket in that magic bag of yours, did you?"

"What do you need a blanket for? I'm sweating just standing here." As if for emphasis, he dragged the back of his hand against his forehead, cleaning it of the thick film of perspiration that had accumulated there.

Jack chuckled. "Don't know much about desert areas, do you, Davy? Sure it's hot now, but when that sun goes down it'll feel like New York in November."

Against his will, David allowed a quick shiver to encompass his body. Once autumn hit in the city, one needed a nice, heavy coat just to stay moderately warm. "It didn't cross my mind to pack one," he muttered.

"Yeah, I get the feeling a lot didn't cross your mind."

"If you're done verbally abusing me, I think it would be in our best interest to find somewhere to settle for the night."

"You go do that," Jack mumbled, "but I'm heading out to find the Parker boys. I'm taking care of this today and now and nothing you say will change my mind." He took two strong steps, followed by two weaker steps. On the fifth step, his balance began to falter and by the time he took the sixth step, his knees were buckling once again. As he felt his body plummet downward, unable to stop, David's arms wrapped around him and pulled him back up.

"Maybe I can't change your mind, but it looks like your own body can," David said. He slung Jack's good arm over his shoulders and supported the bulk of his weight. "We find shelter for now and you're going to rest if I have to tie you down. Tomorrow you can go and kill all of them for all I care."

"Okay," Jack agreed breathlessly, "but I'm only doing this because I want to be at my best when I make those bastards pay, not because you're telling me to."

David just rolled his eyes. "Whatever works."

After almost an hour of wandering aimlessly, the two of them located a wide opening amid some of the mountains. David set Jack down against the wall of the cave and dropped his bag down beside him. "Drink some more water," he ordered. "Just be sure to save some. I may be able to find something for making a fire. Have you got any matches?"

Jack reached into his boot and pulled out a book of matches. Without a word, he tossed them wearily toward David. He wasn't going to admit it, but he was exhausted and barely had enough energy to remain sitting up.

"I've got some rations in the bag," David continued as he scooped up the matches. "Those will have to last us as long as they can. Any animals around here that we can eat?"

"A couple," Jack said. "But I can't shoot any right now and I get the idea that you're not very handy with a gun."

David's cheeks grew red, but he didn't argue, because Jack was right. "I'll see what I can find."

"Hey, Davy," Jack called out hesitantly, his tone softer than it had been.

"What?"

"Be careful out there."

David was slightly taken aback, but he didn't show it. Instead, he offered a small smile—the first real smile he'd had in quite some time—and nodded. "I will, Jack. Promise."


	5. Chapter 5

_What am I doing here?_ David wondered as he walked through the arid landscape. Aside from the fact that he had just followed his ex-friend into the desert to chase down criminals who had killed a man before his eyes, he had also volunteered to go out and find them enough food and water to last them a little while. What did he know about scavenging food? In New York that just meant sneaking an apple off the cart without the merchant knowing—not that David had ever done that even. What was safe to eat here? He mostly saw sand and rocks; not likely very edible or nutritious. He'd noticed a lot of cacti and vaguely recalled someone saying they were edible, but he had no knife on him and was in no mood to tangle with the prickly plant bare-handed.

"Does anything live out here?" he mumbled. Probably not. This was where animals came to die, just like he probably would soon. How long had he been out there, wandering around this way? By the amount of sweat that had accumulated on his body, he wagered he'd been walking around for at least two hours. Jack might be worried about him by now, wondering where he was.

He snorted. Who was he kidding? Jack didn't care about him; Jack didn't care about anyone but himself; that much David knew for certain. What kind of friend just leaves and never writes? What kind of friend lets you think the worst has happened to him for ten years? Despite all of that, David had stuck his neck out to make sure Jack stayed safe, and what had he gotten for his troubles? Jack mouthing off to him, slinging insults like they were marbles in a slingshot.

_So why am I still here?_ It was a question David couldn't quite answer.

Either way, there was no point in wandering around any longer. He wasn't going to find anything, not now. He needed to get back, get some rest, and start fresh the next day. He needed to get his head around this entire thing. No more than five hours ago, he'd been sitting on a train with Denton, on his way to meet with old friends. Then he'd run into the one old friend he'd never expected to see again.

It was a lot to swallow at once.

"I had no luck with food," David announced as he walked into the cave. "But I did manage to grab a few pieces of wood here and there, so we should be able to make a fire."

Jack nodded, but remained in his spot. "Tomorrow I should be better. There should be somewhere around here to fill up the water. You have enough food rations to last until then?"

David pulled out what he had. It wasn't much, but it would do. "We should be fine with this, though it may not be the most delicious food."

"You're talking to a guy who's eaten everything from snake to scorpion. I'm not picky."

"You ate snake and scorpion?" David asked with a look of disgust. He'd never eaten any animal outside of the mammal, fish, and bird families. It just sounded so unnatural.

"I did," he replied, "and if you want to live through this you'd better expand your palate. You can't have that hoity-toity, holier-than-thou attitude out here. The varmints and heat don't care how much money you've got; they'll get you just the same. It's kind of why I like it out here."

"So is that really why you left?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "I see we're back to this again."

"Is it so wrong for me to wonder? You all but said that you avoided me, that you wrote to others and not to me. I'd like to know what you found so wrong with me that you decided to cut me out of your life."

"There was nothing wrong with you, David, okay? It was me; I was the one who had something wrong with me and I didn't want to drag you down with me."

"Why would you have dragged me down? What was wrong with you?"

"Don't ask," Jack commanded, holding a hand up to stop the questions. "It's a personal thing, something I have to deal with, not you. I mean Jesus, Davy, you were on the fast track since the day I met you. I just had to hear you talk and I could tell you were smart, that you were going to do something good with your life, and I was right. I didn't want you to throw all of that away because of me."

"What makes you think I would just throw away my own wants and ambitions because of you?"

"I know you idolized me, Dave. Call me conceited," he said with a shrug, "but it's true. Can't figure out why, though. I mean, the others I could kind of see, but I'd think you would be too smart for that. 'Cause I'm not someone who should be an idol to anyone."

"I didn't idolize you," David protested, all the while knowing what a lie it was. As frustrated as he might sometimes get with Jack, he could help looking up to him in a way he couldn't look up to anyone else. He looked up to his father, of course, on a familial and loving level and he'd looked up to Mr. Thatcher on an intellectual and mentor level, but Jack had been so vivacious and charismatic and street smart; David had looked up to him on a much different level, one he couldn't quite define.

Jack let him believe the lie. He smirked, but nodded, saying, "Okay, Davy, whatever you say. Now why don't we make a fire? The sun should be going down soon and it'll be hard to get one going then."

And so the discussion was dropped for the moment, though David wasn't about to let it go for good.

* * *

The sun slowly set on them and David found that Jack hadn't been exaggerating about the night's being cool. No sooner had the sun disappeared than a strong chill rolled in. The men hugged their coats around them, but the thread-bare clothing could only do so much.

The fire crackled right outside the mouth of the cave; they'd put it there from fear that the cave might fill with smoke and they would die from inhalation. David had pointed out that if the fire grew too large, they may not be able to get out, but Jack said it was either that or they take their chance with the cold. Even with the fire it was almost freezing, so he gave in to that one. Besides, with the way the wind was blowing it was more likely the fire wouldn't make it through the night.

"You need any more food?" Jack asked, holding out the bag of rations to him.

David waved it away. "I'm fine. Just freezing."

"I warned you."

"You could have warned me while I was still on the train. I could have grabbed us a blanket or two."

"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting you to follow me."

"Fair enough." David wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed his arms. "Still, it's really damn cold. How do you stand it out here?"

"I don't make it a habit of sleeping out here, and when I do I usually have a couple of blankets with me." He sounded as though he wanted to say more, but stopped short. Then he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Of course, when it go really cold…well…me and Willie would kinda huddle together to keep warm."

David looked at him. "You mean you slept against each other?" When Jack nodded, David's cheeks tinged pink. "Oh…um…well, I guess it's worth a shot."

"You don't have to, Davy."

"I'm freezing. If it'll help…I mean, it's just to keep warm." He lay back and waited, his breathing becoming shallow and ragged. There was a minute of stillness; then Jack joined him on the ground, his chest pressed against David's back.

"Warmer?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," David whispered, and it was true, but he couldn't be sure if it was the extra body heat that had warmed him or something else. His stomach turned in a not unpleasant way, particularly when he felt Jack's breath brush against the skin of his neck. "This is warmer."

"You okay, Davy?" Jack asked, sending another stream of warm breath against David's skin.

"Fine…just fine." He shut his eyes tightly. "Good night, Jack."

Jack hesitated, then pressed closer against the other man. "Good night, David."


	6. Chapter 6

The two men awoke early the next morning as the glaring sun rose. Jack noted with great embarrassment that he'd developed an erection at some point during the night and he hoped David hadn't noticed. _That was stupid, Kelly_, he mentally berated. He'd known it was a bad idea to sleep with their bodies pressed against each other, but there hadn't been much of an alternative. The desert nights were no joking matter; a fellow could freeze if he wasn't careful.

"We should probably stock up on more food today," David commented. Jack nodded mutely. "Think you're up to a little traveling?"

Jack rolled his shoulder and winced. There was still pain, but the arm wasn't immobile. "I can manage, but not alone."

"I wasn't planning on sending you out by yourself. But you're probably better at finding food and water around here. You're definitely better at using a gun."

"Yeah, well if we're going to go in search of food, we'd better get at it now. As it gets later in the day, it'll get hotter. You don't want to wander about the desert at noon."

"Trust me, I know," David replied as he recalled his trek the previous day. "Just let me know when you're ready."

Jack reached over and grabbed his gun. He fastened his holster around his waist and, after checking it for ammo and reloading, he placed the gun inside the right-side holder. "How much water we got?"

"Not too much. Maybe enough to last us for an hour, but we'll need a refill."

"Let's make that top priority, then. I'll show you have to track for water and then we can focus on scrounging up some food."

"Snake and scorpion?" David asked with a look of distaste.

"If we're lucky. If nothing else, I can chop us up some cactus."

* * *

The two men walked through the desert in mostly silence. David led the way with Jack not far behind. A few times they had to stop to rest and David kept a close eye on Jack's wound, changing the bandages once.

True to his word, Jack instructed David in finding water in the desert, telling him the best way to go about it. They were able to find a small bit of water, certainly enough to fill their canteens, but they would still need to be conservative in their water consumption. The hunt for food proved to be far more difficult, probably because animals were better at hiding than water was.

"There's a snake," Jack said, nodding toward a long reptile slithering along a rock. "Probably trying to soak up as much heat as possible before it gets dark again."

"Uh, what should we do?" David asked, eyeing the creature fearfully. He was a good ten feet away, but he still jumped when the snake recoiled from the approaching Jack.

"We should kill it, of course," Jack said matter-of-factly.

"You're going to shoot it?"

"Nah, that's not the way to kill a snake. You could lose some of the meat and waste a bullet." Before David could ask how he intended to kill it, Jack extracted a large knife from his trousers. He slowly made his way toward the snake, knife in hand.

"Jack!" David hissed. "Stop! It might bite you!"

"Shut up, Davy," was Jack's snarled response. "You'll scare it. Now I know what I'm doing. Unless you want to eat sand, I suggest you just stay out of the way."

David frowned, but he made no more attempts to protest. Instead, he took a few steps back and watched in awe as Jack inched closer to the snake. Then, in a flash, Jack's hand shot out and grabbed the snake just below the head. The reptile opened its mouth, but couldn't get an angle to bite Jack. Without a moments hesitation, Jack brought the knife down alongside his hand and sliced through the snake's body as though he'd done it a hundred times before, which he probably had, David reckoned.

"Ya see, Davy?" Jack said as he turned around triumphantly, the snake's body dangling limply in his hand. "Nothing to it! You want to try the next one?"

"Ah, no," David said, "that's okay. You're the expert, not me."

Jack handed the snake over to David, instructing him to store it in his sack. David took it by the tip of its tale, holding it delicately between his thumb and forefinger as though it might sprout another head like the mythical Hydra and bite him, and quickly dropped it inside. "So how'd you learn all this stuff?"

"The best way to learn anything: experience. When I first joined up with the Pinkertons, they took some pity on me and helped me out, but they weren't going to coddle me or nothing."

David cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Uh, yeah…about that. I never thought you of all people would join the law enforcement."

Jack looked up, squinting his eyes against the harsh desert sun. "You implyin' something, Davy?"

"No…no, I'm just surprised."

"What? Like I'm a bad guy? Like you thought I'd have fallen in with guys like the ones who held up the train?" he asked, his tone slowly growing angrier.

"Oh, for the love of…can you go even five minutes without over-analyzing everything I say?" David snarled. "I wasn't trying to insinuate anything, okay? I know you'd never be one of those crooks, robbing innocent train passengers. It's just that you've always seemed to have had problems with people involved with keeping the peace."

"Yeah, I don't think you could really say Snyder and his cronies were 'keeping the peace.'"

David started to respond, but then thought better of it and shrugged. "Fair enough. But how'd you end up a Pinkerton Agent?"

Jack sighed and sat back on one of the rocks. "When I first came to New Mexico, I got work here and there. Like I'd maybe mop up some guys vomit in a bar in exchange for a room or get paid to deliver some food to the general store, but it was barely enough to keep a roof over my head. I wasn't exactly turning out to be the cowboy I told Les I'd be," he said with a sad smile.

"Anyway, about six years ago, I was working in at one of the saloons the Pinks liked to drink at. I was mostly cleaning, but when things got busy I'd pour a drink or two. And I listened to them talking. The things they'd done and seen, the scumbags they'd put away or killed. The adventures they'd had. And I realized that they were living my life, the life I'd always planned out for myself."

So I started asking how to join up. I don't think they took me too seriously at first. They must've thought I was some dumb kid seeking a cheap thrill, some guy who thought the west was like you read in books or see in a moving picture or something. Finally, though, Willy took some pity on me. He took me out and showed me the ropes, taught me everything I need to know to be a real-life cowboy. Hell, he's the one who convinced them to take me on. And here I am now…and he's dead."

David sat down on the rock and gave his friend a gentle pat on the back. "Jack, it wasn't your fault."

"I know, but I still feel like I could have done something more. I can't get over it. Why'd I live when he died?"

David had heard about this sort of thing. Survivor's guilt, they called it. Everyone likes surviving something, but when a friend isn't so lucky they feel guilty for being so relieved. It was a fruitless feeling, though. Obviously if a person is dead there is nothing that can bring them back, not even your guilt. But David didn't consider it prudent to share his philosophy on the subject with Jack.

They sat there in silence, shuffling their feet in the dirt. Jack was itching to light up a cigarette, but he was out and he got the feeling David still hadn't taken up smoking. Besides, it was getting later in the day and he intended to have a nice sized supply of food before they went back to their makeshift shelter. "Okay, enough chitchatting, Davy. This ain't no afternoon tea. We've barely got enough food for lunch."

David nodded gamely as he stood. "We've got one snake. What else do you suggest we try to get?"

"I can wrangle us up a couple scorpions for extra protein and maybe get some cactus for fruit."

"Scorpion, snake, cactus," David mumbled. "I didn't even realize people could actually eat this stuff."

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it!"

"You expect me to believe this stuff actually tastes good?"

"Well, scorpion's not exactly my favorite, but snake tastes just like chicken. I bet you wouldn't even notice the difference."

David snorted. "Doubtful, but I don't think my stomach's about to let me pass up any food at this point."

"Finally loosening up, huh, Davy?" Jack asked with a glint in his eye.

"Must be the heat. I hear it can make a guy do some crazy things." Though he had reverted back to his usual security blanket of sarcasm, David was smiling slightly, the first genuine smile Jack had seen from him in quite some time.

"Yeah," Jack agreed with a grin of his own, "that must be it. So let's hurry this up so we can you back in the shade."


	7. Chapter 7

By the time the two of them returned to their cave, they had accumulated a bevy of items that could serve as food. Most of it consisted of snakes and scorpions as Jack had suggested, with some pieces of cactus (minus the thorns) thrown in for good measure. They'd also happened upon a couple of dead rodents with flies buzzing about them, but Jack had assured David that meat could still be gotten from the bone.

"I'm telling you," Jack said as David checked his wound, "once I get this stuff cooked, you won't be able to tell the difference between this and the food you're used to."

"Doubtful, but I'm in no position to argue."

Jack grinned and watched David study the gunshot wound. "So what's the prognosis, Doc?"

"The wound is still bad, but if we keep it covered you should get through without an infection. But you should still be careful," he warned, once again taking on a parental tone. "No rough stuff. At least not for now."

"It's just you and me, Davy. Who you think I'm gonna get rough with?" The moment the words left his mouth, Jack regretted their possible implication. "But…uh, yeah, you're the doctor, Davy. No rough stuff. Promise."

"I'll get a fire going," David said as he turned away to camouflage his red cheeks. "Maybe then you can show me these cooking skills you claim to possess."

The sun was still high in the sky and not due to set for a few more hours, so while they set up the fire outside, they still opted to remain in the shade as long as possible. Now and then Jack would pull himself up—waving off and assistance by David—and check the food. With no pots or pans to place above the fire, he'd skewered the meats with sticks and created a sort of spit above the fire, setting the food so it dangled just above the flames. In the meantime, they satiated their appetites with water and pieces of cactus.

"So Medda took her show on the road, huh?" Jack mused as David filled him in on the lives of their old friends and acquaintances.

"Irving Hall closed a couple of years back. Vaudeville just isn't what it used to be, especially with the rise of moving pictures, and New York was just too expensive to keep a failing business open. I remember she auctioned off a few things—costumes, props, you know? I meant to go, but things got in the way."

"Wish I'd known she was so nearby. Her and Blink and Bumlets. I'd have loved to see them, catch up on old times."

David felt a rush of jealousy creeping into his stomach. He didn't understand how Jack could ignore him for ten years and all but run at the sight of him, yet he could bemoan having missed a get-together with three other people, people David didn't think had meant as much to Jack as he had.

But he quieted the voice. It wasn't important. He and Jack were having a good time now. There was no need to ruin that.

"Where'd Crutchy end up?" Jack asked, not even noticing David's slight change in demeanor. "He still doing well?"

"Running the lodging house. He's been in charge since Kloppman…well, died."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that," Jack said with a tinge of remorse. "Kloppman was always a good guy. He treated us well. But I'm glad Crutchy's taken care of. Hate to say it, and I know he wouldn't want to hear it, but I think I worried about him the most of anyone. Not that he can't take care of himself, of course…"

"So what about you, Jack?"

"What about me?"

"What have you been up to these past years?"

Jack snorted. "I already gave you my story."

"No, you just told me how you got to be a Pinkerton Agent. I'm sure there's more to your life than just that."

"You're wrong. The Pinks are my life."

"No girl or anything?"

"The life ain't exactly the best for keeping relationships. I spend too much time out and about to really make a commitment to anyone else."

David wasn't sure if the answer made him happy or disappointed.

"What about you, Davy? Any future missus?"

"No…no, I think I'm a lot like you in that respect. Married to my job."

"How about your folks?"

"They're just excited to dote on their grandkids. Sarah just got pregnant with her third." He glanced sidelong at Jack, looking for any sign of regret or jealousy that Sarah had moved on. But he saw none. "And Les got married recently. My parents are waiting for me to settle down, but I don't see that happening any time soon, if ever."

Jack nodded as he tended to the food cooking over the fire. "Marriage ain't so great," he proclaimed. "Just something to hold you back."

"I don't know," David said with a shrug. "I think it can be okay, if you find the right person."

"But who's the right person? And how could you even know?" he asked as he grabbed the food. He bit off a piece of the snake. "What if the right person is the wrong person?"

David raised an eyebrow. "Is that some sort of paradox?"

"You know what I mean. What if the right one is one you can't have?"

"What? You mean like falling for someone who's married or who doesn't love you back?"

"Yeah…something like that," Jack said wistfully; it was obvious he meant something else, something he wasn't saying.

He handed bits of food over to David. "Anyway, it was just a stupid thought. Forget about it."

With his stomach growling, David took a bite of food, surprised that it did, in fact, taste fairly good. He wouldn't have known what it was if he hadn't scoured the desert for it that very day. Still, he could only stomach a little bit; thinking about it too long made him feel queasy.

"So why'd you leave?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Let's not start this again, Davy. We've had a good day and I'd rather not fight."

And David had half a mind to just nod and agree with him. They weren't arguing and there was no point in getting all up in arms over something that trivial.

But _was_ it trivial? David didn't think so. This was more than just someone in his life leaving; Jack had abandoned him. Him! The one who had practically saved his ass during the strike! In fact, he was the one who had given him the idea for the strike in the first place. Didn't that warrant at least _some_ consideration of his feelings?

"I'm not trying to start anything, Jack," he said cautiously. "I just feel I deserve some sort of explanation."

"Yeah, and I told you—"

"I know what you told me," David interrupted. "I want more than that. I get why you left, but why no letters? You didn't send me a single one!"

"I was busy trying to make a life for myself."

"Oh, but not too busy to write to other newsies? Which ones did you write to?"

"None of your business, Davy."

"I'd like to know which ones you consider to be better friends than me; because as I recall we were pretty close."

"We were," Jack agreed. "You were one of my closest friends."

"So who was good enough to get letters from you? It wasn't me and, unless they were lying to me to cover for you, it wasn't Spot, Racetrack, Crutchy, or Mush."

"Kinda hard to write to them. Didn't know where they were staying."

David frowned. "You're changing the subject, Jack."

"Because I told you I don't want to talk about this."

"Well, when do I get what I want?" he spat back. "Do I just have to sit here quietly just because you've decided to put up a wall between us?"

"You don't have to, but it sure would help," Jack grumbled, picking at his food.

"What was that?" David snapped.

Jack's head snapped up. "You're being a pain in the ass! I mean, damn, Davy! What is it with you? Nag, nag, nag! That's all you do!"

"Forgive me for wanting to know what about it was about me that repulsed you so much that you had to cut off all contact with me!"

Jack threw his food to the ground. "That's it!" he growled. "That's it, I can't take one more minute of your yammering!" He stood, grunting as his wound began to throb.

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here. I'll go scrounge for more food."

"We don't need anymore food."

"Maybe not, but I'm about to hit something and I'd rather not be here when I do."

David stood, calling out feebly, "Jack, let me come."

"No! No, you ain't coming, Davy. You'll stay here. I don't want you following me again, either. Just stay here. I…I need some air."

"What if you pass out?"

"You don't need to mother me," Jack said, turning an angry eye to David. "I've survived in the desert long before you came out here to stick your nose were it doesn't belong."

"Jack…"

"Don't," Jack warned. "Just don't."

The sun was in the west; the day was winding down and soon it start to grow dark and chilly. But Jack paid that no heed. He needed to get out. He needed to get away. He needed it for so many reasons.

"I'll be back by night fall," he promised, his anger quelling slightly. "I…I just can't right now, Davy. I can't."

And David didn't argue. He just leaned back against the wall of the cave, sighing as he watched Jack venture out.

_Way to go, Jacobs_, he thought ruefully.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks for the reviews, guys! Things are going to get a little dangerous soon...


	8. Chapter 8

If there was one thing Jack Kelly was certain of as he ambled through the desert, it was that David Jacobs was infuriating. He was certain of this for quite a few reasons. One reason was that David had an annoying habit of turning up at the worst possible times.

Like the day before.

Why show up now, why after all these years? Why couldn't he have just been content to stay in New York and live his life, leaving Jack to live his? Things had been going so well. He had a good job, a nice group of friends (or, at least, the closest thing a guy could have to friends when he was a Pink), and he was practically living out his dream of being a real cowboy.

Best of all, certain feelings had started to subdue, creeping back into the recesses of his mind to be locked away forever.

Then David had shown up. And now everything had gone to hell.

If only Willy hadn't been killed. If only David hadn't followed him. If only…if only David wasn't David. If only…

Jack shook his head. No point in obsessing over things you couldn't change.

He sought the shade of a large rock and sat down unsteadily. His wound was already starting to hurt again. David had been right about that. Damn him for being right.

"Why'd you have to do this, Davy?" he muttered aloud. And he didn't just mean David's inopportune appearance or his stubborn, thickheaded ways. He meant David simply being David, and how he couldn't fault him for that.

Because that was the second reason he found David Jacobs so infuriating. He found it infuriating that being so close to his friend made his body and mind behave in strange ways. It was infuriating mostly because, try as he might, he couldn't really blame that on David; all he could do was cut and run, the way he had ten years earlier, and hope it wouldn't catch up with him.

Obviously, that hadn't worked out so well the first time and it wasn't working any better this time around.

He didn't blame David for wanting to talk. Jack hadn't exactly done his duty as a friend; he knew that. But he was between a rock and a hard place. He couldn't very well explain to David why he'd been ignoring him for all these years without confessing a few things, and he couldn't confess those things without running the risk of losing David's friendship, maybe even his respect. In his mind, it was better to hide from David in an admittedly cowardly manner than have to face his reaction if Jack were to tell him the truth.

Jack leaned back against the rock. It was still warm from absorbing the sun's rays from that day. Soon, it would be dark and freezing cold, but for now, Jack was going to sit here and figure out how to get out of this mess, even if it took him all night.

* * *

David checked his pocket watch for the fifth time since Jack had stormed off. He saw that Jack had now been gone for exactly two hours, seventeen minutes, and about thirty-four seconds. He frowned. He'd assumed that Jack would take a few minutes to cool off and would return within the hour. It was unsettling to be sitting there all alone, not sure where his friend was, or if he was even still alive.

So what to do?

He jumped to his feet and began pacing. He certainly wasn't going to spend another however many hours just sitting there, waiting for Jack to return. He was done waiting around for someone else to make the first move. That's what he'd done these past years since Jack left, and now look where that had left him. No more sitting; it was time to be proactive for once in his life.

David grabbed his canteen and tossed a few pieces of cactus into his pockets. He stepped out of the cave, into the sunlight, still blisteringly hot, even as the daylight waned. Before him lay the vast desert lands, unforgiving and dangerous. He'd never been in the desert alone; hell, he'd never even been out of New York City alone. It struck him how dependent he was, how dependent he had been on others, especially Jack. And he felt pathetic.

This time he could depend on no one but himself. He certainly couldn't depend on Jack, that much was clear. For whatever reason, Jack was hell-bent on making this entire ordeal as difficult as possible.

What had changed? How had he and Jack gone from close friends to near strangers? What had caused Jack to run the way he had? Was it his fault? Had he somehow driven Jack away? That's what he seemed to be doing now. He could barely say a word without widening the rift between them. It didn't help that they were both so damn stubborn.

He stepped further out into the sun and looked around, examining his surroundings. He had to find Jack; if not for his own sake, then for Jack's sake. He couldn't let things continue this way. If he and Jack made it into town and never spoke again after that, so be it; but David wasn't going to let Jack die somewhere in the desert anymore than he was going to let himself die out here in the desert. Let Jack hate and curse him, but for once he was going to be the hero.

Right, left, or straight. Those were his options. He looked in all three directions, but saw nothing but sun and dust. No sign of which way Jack had gone. Only one way to decide this…

"Eenie meanie minie moe," he muttered, ticking off a direction with each word. It was a childish tactic, but one that had suited him for quite some time. At the end of the rhyme, his finger was pointing toward the left.

"Guess I'm going left."

* * *

The sky was beginning to change from a clear blue to a mixture of pink, purple and orange. A few winds blew past Jack as he sat there, still leaning back against the rock. He shivered and wrapped his good arm around his torso in a poor attempt to warm himself. His mind returned to the previous night, specifically to how easy it had been to stay warm with David's body pressed against his.

_Stop it!_ he scolded himself angrily. _Stop thinking about that_. It wasn't right…

If only Willy were still alive; maybe he could talk to him.

Jack frowned, realizing he hasn't taken much time to properly mourn his friend's death. He felt bad about that, of course, but the truth was, Willy wasn't really his friend. Sure, they were acquaintances and had worked together, but their relationship had always been purely work related. They'd swapped stories, shared cigarettes, and watched each other's backs.

Willy had been the best of them, and now he was dead.

"Damn Parkers," he muttered. Those boys had been a pain in his and every other Pinkerton's side for as long as Jack could remember. They'd hit every bank in the Santa Fe area, had collected hundreds of thousands from poor, unsuspecting train passengers, and had incited fear into the hearts of hundreds of residents. They were the most elusive crooks the Pinks had ever pursued and always managed to stay one step ahead, despite the best efforts of the law enforcement agents.

_Remember why you came here_, he thought. He hadn't just jumped off that train for kicks; he was on a mission to avenge Willy's death and to finally bring the Parker boys to justice. And no one—not even David—was going to stop him from doing that.

He looked up into the sky, letting the brim of his hat shield his eyes from the sun's glare. Based on the location of the sun in the sky, he figured it was around 5:30 or 6:00. No doubt David was starting to work himself into a tizzy over the whole thing, driving himself crazy as he tried to figure out where Jack had run off. He imagined he'd find David pacing the length of the cave, wringing his hands together in worry. Perhaps he'd be so relieved to see Jack turn up, he'd forget what they had been arguing about to begin with and let things settle down once more.

He could at least hope as much.

With a good deal of pain and grunting, Jack managed to pull himself to a standing position, though he took a few moments to lean back against the rock and catch his breath. He noticed the wound beginning to bleed through, but he paid it little heed. Let David deal with that; it would give him something to occupy his mind when Jack returned.

He set off to the east, knowing exactly how to get back to the cave. His canteen was nearly empty, but he didn't have time to search for more water. He'd just have to be more careful with spreading out his water consumption, would maybe have to con David into giving him a little of his.

He knew what he was going to do now. He would get David to the city and drop him off there. Then, he'd return to the desert in search of the Parkers and take care of them the way he'd planned. Sure, escorting David to town would take more time than he wanted to waste, but it was the only way he'd be able to concentrate on the job at hand.

If, when he got back to Santa Fe, David was still there waiting for him…well, he'd deal with that when and if the problem arose. If David had moved on to Nevada, though, it might be for the best.

Jack couldn't decide which he hoped would be the case.

* * *

David hated deserts. This was the first time he'd ever been in one of course, but he could see right away that he hated it. What was there to like about it? It was either too hot or too cold, never anywhere in between. There was sand everywhere, too, and it was starting to get into his clothes and his hair and his eyes.

He trekked along, not sure where he was going. He didn't even know what direction Jack had gone in. Worse, he was starting to realize that he didn't know how to get back.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he patronized. He brought a shaking hand up and ran it through his hair. The excess sand got caught in the crevices of his fingers and he shook his head in disgust, hoping to get all of the sand out.

Now he was lost, covered in sand and sweat, and he was no closer to tracking down Jack. For all David knew, Jack was lying half-dead in the other direction.

He took a long swig of water from his canteen. The thought that he might have to conserve the water didn't even enter his mind.

What had made him think he could do this? What possible reason had he had to run out into the desert after Jack? And for the second time in two days, no less! He wasn't meant for this kind of thing; he wasn't the rugged survivalist type. He belonged in a nice, clean New York apartment with a good book and a glass of bourbon or wine for company. His days of discomfort and scrounging were to have been over the day he became a doctor. So why was he here, on the other side of the country, with only hot water to drink and cactus to eat? Why was he putting himself through this?

He knew the reason: Jack. For whatever reason, when it came to Jack, there was nothing David wouldn't do. No matter how bullheaded Jack was being and no matter how angry David was at him, he always felt a certain responsibility for him, like he was his keeper. David didn't know why that was, but he couldn't help it. Jack was his friend, for better or for worse, and he wasn't just going to leave him to die.

He pushed through the heat and pain, keeping his head low and his eyes open for either Jack or some form of shelter. Or both.

That was when he smelled it. David couldn't be sure what the aroma was, but it smelled good and made his mouth water. He looked up, shading his eyes with a hand, and saw a clean stream of smoke rising from behind a large mountain.

His heart was pounding. Finally, a sign of someone else! Maybe someone who could help him find Jack.

David's pace went from a dragging walk to a quick sprint as he rounded the mountain. He peeked around the side and saw a small fire, over which was a make-shift pan with food in it. Two men sat on either side of it and no fewer than four horses were tied off at a nearby tree. The mountain had a small opening in it, much like the one he and Jack had been in for a day and a half.

Tentatively, he stepped out into the open and approached the men. Within seconds, their heads snapped up and the men were on their feet. David raised his hands, showing that he came in peace. "Uh, sorry to bother you guys. It's just…you see, I'm lost. I was with my friend, Jack and he ran off and now I'm not sure where he is. Do you think you guys could help?"

The men exchanged looks. "What are you doing all the way out here?" one of them asked gruffly.

Suddenly, David felt very nervous for reasons he couldn't quite name. He noticed that one of the men had a bloodied bandage wrapped around his leg. "I was on a train, but it was robbed," he explained slowly. "My friend, Jack, he jumped off to find the robbers and I came with him to make sure he didn't get hurt."

"Robbers, eh?" the man with the bandage asked. "Wouldn't happen to have been those Parker boys, would it?"

David frowned. That was the name Jack had given him. "Yeah…that's what Jack called them."

"Jack as in Jack Kelly? One of the Pinks?"

Now David was really nervous. "H-how did you know that?"

"Don't often forget the name of a man who shoots you in the leg."

His stomach sank and David felt his body turn to mush. Their faces were no longer covered, but he could tell by their voices and demeanors that these men were two of the robbers from the train…and he had just admitted to being the friend of their enemy.

"You know," he said as he slowly started to back up, "I think I'll leave you guys alone. I'm sure my friend will turn up somewhere."

His back hit something cold and hard, but he didn't dare turn around. He didn't need to see it to know it was a gun.

"No need to hurry off, sir" said the man behind him, likely the one holding the gun to his back. "I'm sure we can offer you some hospitality until your friend Kelly shows up. Right boys?" The other two Parker boys laughed, elbowing each other in the ribs.

In a flash, David found himself lying prone on the ground, his hands being yanked roughly behind his back. Rope was wrapped around his wrists, keeping them bound together in a most uncomfortable manner. Then, he was pulled to his feet and forced toward the Parkers' camp.

"It's getting late," one of them—the one who'd been holding the rifle against David's back—commented. "Too late to go in search of that damned Pink."

"That's okay," another said, shoving David to the ground. "We're in no hurry. Sooner or later, Kelly will come 'round here, looking for his friend. And when he does, we'll be ready."

David gulped as understanding dawned on him. These robbers were going to go fishing for Jack Kelly, and they intended to use him as bait.


	9. Chapter 9

"Davy, I'm home," Jack announced weakly as he entered the cave. Only the top of the sun was visible above the western horizon; the rest of the sky was shrouded in darkness, a darkness that came with a heavy chill.

The cave was quiet. Jack squinted, looking for any sign of David, but saw none. "Now where the hell…" He trailed off as the answer hit him. Of course, David—being the stubborn man he was—had taken it upon himself to go after Jack, despite being a born and bred city boy who didn't know north from south. He was probably wandering around aimlessly like a little lost lamb, waiting for Jack to come rescue him.

"Damn it, Davy," he cursed, throwing his things to the ground. Now, instead of getting a nice, warm helping of food and a good night sleep, Jack would have to trek back out into the desert and search for him, and all because of David's own pigheadedness.

Or would he?

_How many times have you had to save his ass?_ the devil on his shoulder whispered in his ear. _David seems to think that any time he gets in over his head, you'll be there to jump in and rescue him. That's how he was ten years ago and that's how he is now. Nothing's changed._

But the angel on his shoulder had different ideas. _And what about all that he's done for you? Who tried to help you escape from Irving Hall the night of the rally, even at the risk of getting thrown in jail himself? He gave Snyder a pretty kick in the kisser, didn't he?_

_So what?_ the devil asked. _You still got taken in. He didn't do squat for you._

_All he wanted was an explanation, Jack. You owe him that much._

_Owe? You were doing him a favor by high-tailing it out. You think he'd have become a bigwig doctor if he'd been caught in some compromising position with you? What person would want a doctor who's known to enjoy the company of other men? Men wouldn't want to undress in front of him; parents wouldn't want their kids near him. If anything, he owes you for not getting him mixed up in that kind of stuff._

_And if David doesn't want any involvement so be it; he can go on his merry little way to Nevada. But you can't leave him out there like that. He doesn't know the first thing about survival. The kid barely had the sense to run when the bulls came running; how do you think he'll fare against coyotes and the freezing night?_

_No one told him to run off like that,_ the devil argued. _He made his bed, now he can lie in it. And you should also lie in your bed tonight, rather than wasting time running around the desert, looking for a guy who all but spit in your face._

_It doesn't matter why he ran off or who was right or wrong. What matters is that your friend needs you and you have a duty to him. He didn't need to jump off that train and come running after you, but he did, and he likely saved your life._

Jack had to admit that was true. With the amount of blood he was losing, he'd probably be lying dead or close to dead, had David not intervened. And David would probably be lying in a warm bed after a filling dinner (one that didn't consist of scorpion and snake) if Jack hadn't acted like a petulant child on that train.

_You couldn't save Willy,_ the angel continued,_ but you can save David. Don't leave him to the desert. You'll regret it if you do._

And there it was. He knew what he had to do. He owed David that much.

It wouldn't be too hard to figure out which way David had gone, but the impending night would make it difficult to follow. He had no lantern with him, but knew enough that he could make one. He gathered up the largest sticks from their kindling pile and tied them together with twine. Then, he retrieved one of his extra shirts from his bag and tied it tightly around one end. He had precious few matches and had hoped to save a couple for his cigarettes, but, of course, this was far more important than Jack getting his tobacco fix.

The Santa Fe desert was covered in a blanket of darkness. Jack had seen the footprints veering off to the south and could only believe they belonged to David. He pulled his coat around him more tightly and collected his makeshift torch, then ventured into the night.

* * *

David wasn't sure what was more excruciating: the rope burns forming around his tightly bound wrists or the hunger pangs growling in his stomach. Despite the frigid air, the Parker quartet remained seated around the fire eating, leaving David seated at the side of the cave. The smell of whatever they were eating had his mouth watering, but he didn't dare speak. When he'd asked to use the bathroom minutes earlier, his response had come in the form of a swift kick to his side.

The Parker boys were a rowdy group of brothers who'd grown up in Albuquerque, under the care of their mother and older sister. Their father had been shot and killed during a brawl with the sheriff's son, an event that imbedded in them a hatred for all forms of law and government.

At thirty, James was the oldest and served as the unspoken leader of the group. A known womanizer with loose trousers, he had all but been run out of Albuquerque after being caught trying to rape the daughter of the local pastor. He hadn't stepped foot within their limits in seven years.

Twenty-seven-year-old Tommy had happily taken over the role of second-in-command to his brother, despite being given many opportunities to better himself. He found the life of crime to be far more exhilarating than being a good citizen. He was the smartest of the group and often was the brains behind their heists.

Next was twenty-five-year-old Patrick, known as Lucky Pat, due to both his March 17th Birthday and his ability to make it through the toughest situations seemingly unscathed. He'd been the only of his brothers to marry, his wife being a dancer at one of his favorite saloons. When she'd gotten pregnant, he'd recruited his older brothers to help him pull a bank job in order to get money for the baby. While awaiting trial, they'd made a run for it with the aid of the youngest boy, twenty-year-old Danny, and had hidden themselves on the outskirts of town, making a living off train heists and robbing poor, unsuspecting farmers. They tried to pull these jobs with as little blood shed as possible, but they weren't squeamish about killing if it was necessary, and offing Jack Kelly (and any other law enforcement officers) was definitely necessary.

"Think Kelly'll come 'round this way?" asked Danny.

"If he values his friend's life, he'll come out searching," James said. "And if he doesn't, we'll just have to go after him."

Tommy nodded his head to where David was huddled, trying to keep warm. "Think he'll talk?"

"Oh, sure. Just look at him; he's a softie. He'll crack like an egg." As if to further emphasis his point, James cracked an egg into the skillet, tossing the shell over his shoulder.

David resented the comments and resented that they thought so little of his willpower. Didn't they know that he had been essential in bringing down men like Pulitzer and Hearst? _I guess news from the East Coast doesn't make it down here_, he thought wryly.

"You still gotta piss?"

He looked up and saw James making his away toward him. David nodded mutely and soon was yanked to his feet. "Come on," James muttered as he led David around to the other side of the mountain, where he saw a small cluster of vegetation.

James cut through the ropes and David hissed as the air blew against his raw skin. "I've got a gun," James growled, "in case you're thinking of trying anything."

"I'm not," David promised. His word didn't sway James Parker, though, as he felt the barrel of a rifle pressed against his back. It made it difficult for him to aim straight as he did his business.

"So how'd a strait-laced guy like you get roped in with Jack Kelly?"

"What?"

"You. You reek of high society, the kind of guy who never as to worry about where he'll get his next meal."

David almost laughed out loud at that as memories of dinnerless nights floated through his mind. He could remember times when his family would go a day without food, or with very little food. "You'd be surprised," he said.

James snorted. "Right. You're as out of place here as any of us would be at some social party."

"Jack and I go way back."

"That so?" James sneered. "How far back?"

"None of your business," David snapped back irritably. He was surprised at his own guff, not sure why he was so defensive on the subject of his and Jack's relationship.

As surprised as he was, James was even more so. He was used to people fearing him, not talking back. "That's enough," he growled, jabbing the rifle against David's back. "Finish it up."

David did as he was told, not wanting to further antagonize the man with the gun. He was brought back around to the cave, his hands once again bound beside him. The other men were finishing up their dinner and spreading out their bedding. The blankets were few, most ratty and torn; David doubted he would warrant getting one.

"Danny, you've got first watch," James announced.

"Aw, why me?" Danny whined.

"Cause you're the youngest."

"Yeah," Pat said gleefully, "we outrank you."

"And Tommy and I outrank you," James said to him, "so you'll take the second shift. Wake us if—and only if—you see Kelly coming around. You wake me for any other shit and you'll be eating your teeth for breakfast."

He grabbed David's arm and pulled him into the cave. "You don't move," James said as he forcefully pushed him into the darkest corner of the cave.

David was grateful for the moth-eaten blanket tossed on top of him.

* * *

Jack had followed the foot prints a good ways as night descending. Unfortunately, with the desert nights came the deserts winds, winds that blew across the sands, destroying any foot prints that may have been there. "Couldn't have even had the sense to drop breadcrumbs, huh, Davy?" Of course, with this wind, they probably would have blown away.

But not cactus.

Jack knelt down, holding his torch to the ground. Sure enough, there was a piece of perfectly chopped cactus lying in the sand. Unless the desert critters had suddenly mastered the use of a knife, it had been dropped by David. That meant he was at least on the right track.

A few feet ahead he saw another piece…and then another a few feet ahead of that. "Looks like you've got a hole in your pants pocket, Davy," he muttered as he scooped the pieces up (no point in wasting good food). "Or maybe you had some sense after all."

* * *

**AN: **Sorry for the wait between chapters! Definitely hoping to finish this one soon :)


	10. Chapter 10

David couldn't sleep. How could he hope to? Between the cold night winds that blew against him, the rumbling snoring coming from one or more of the sleeping brothers, and the knowledge that he would be used as bait to lure his best friend to his death, there was no hope of him getting the least bit of shut eye. As long as he was awake, though, he was going to put his brain to use. It was time for him to bust out of there before they could hurt Jack.

Danny was lying lazily in front of the fire, poking wood into the flame to keep it going. A bottle of brown liquid was next to him; every so often he would take a long swig. He looked so non-threatening, save for the gun at his waist.

Lowest on the totem pole. Obviously a bit of a screw-up. He would be David's best shot at escape. But he wouldn't be on watch for long. David had to act quickly, before the next brother took over. Pushing his heels into the ground, he scooted himself to the mouth of the cave.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Just trying to get warm," he said. It was partly true.

"You got a blanket. Use that."

"Look, I can't run with my hands tied behind my back. Besides which, I've never been the best runner. I just need to warm up."

Danny looked uncertain. Should he let the hostage get close to the fire? Should he wake James and get his opinion? No, James had been very specific: don't wake him unless they see Kelly. He would have to handle this on his own.

"I don't think Jack would be willing to trade himself for my cold, dead corpse," he said persuasively. Not that he would likely die from the chill (at least, not that quickly) but it was his best bargaining chip at this point.

"Okay," he said finally, "but no funny business."

"I have no intention of there being any funny business. Promise." With his captor's permission, he continued pushing himself out of the cave and closer to the fire. "Thank you. I'll sleep better if I'm warm."

Danny rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "Here," he said, gripping David by the shoulders and pulling him toward the fire in a manner less than graceful. It did a number on David's backside, but he made no complaints.

"Thanks," he said with a shaky smile.

"You want some whiskey?" Danny offered the bottle to him; David could smell the alcohol and it made him gag.

"No…but thanks for asking."

"Sure? It'll warm you up right quick."

"I'm not much of a drinker." Especially when your mouth has been all over that bottle.

"Suit yourself." He took another swig…a long one. "I tell you, there's nothing so good as a bottle of this stuff. I don't even need food if I get to bunker down each night with this. Better than sex, even with the prettiest girl. Ever have one of those things?"

"A pretty girl?"

"Nah, I mean something better than sex with a pretty girl."

"I guess…I mean, I wouldn't know."

Danny eyed him suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, I just mean that I've never had sex with a girl. I mean, I've never had sex ever."

That sent Danny howling with laughter, bent over and slapping his knee. His face was red and tears even began to stream down his cheeks. David sat there frowning, embarrassed that he was so obviously being mocked for his celibacy. Why the opinion of a low-life crook bothered him so much, he didn't know.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-six," he muttered.

"Boy, around here you ain't a man until you've had yourself a woman. Hell, I had my first when I was thirteen."

"I guess we had different upbringings."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

David sighed. "Nothing. Look, it's not a big deal. I just haven't met the right person."

"You never met a girl with big enough tits? Don't you have brothels up there in New York?"

"Yes, of course we do, but I'm not…I mean…that's…I don't patronize those sorts of establishments."

"Well, la-dee-dah for you," Danny replied, eyebrows raised. "I guess being a prude comes with being a snob."

"I'm not a snob," he argued. "And I don't need to prove myself to anyone, let alone you."

"Anything you say." Danny still looked amused by the confession. "Now settle down or you'll wake the others. They won't take too kindly to that."

David did as was told and tried to make himself comfortable. He had gotten this far. Now he had to figure out his next step.

* * *

Jack was so angry he could spit. After following the trail as far as it would go, he happened upon the backside of a cave. Assuming David had simply taken shelter in there for the night, he crept around the side, not wanting to wake him if he was sleeping.

That's when he spotted the fire and, more importantly, spotted the youngest Parker brother sitting before it with David beside him, his hands bound behind him. But that wasn't what made him angry (though it didn't exactly please him); no, what made him angry was that he had left his gun back at the cave, assuming it would be too much of a hassle to carry with him through the desert. He could kick himself.

There was no point in going back for it now. No, by the time he got back, the other Parker brothers would be up and he will have missed his chance. Whatever he did, he had to act now.

The good thing was that Danny was the one standing guard. As the youngest, he often lacked the common sense of his brothers had. Case in point, the others would have never allowed a hostage to stray so far from the cave, nor would they be drinking alcohol during their watch. Not only did it make one uncoordinated and slow to respond, but it could put even a heavy drinker to sleep after one swig too many. Judging by his posture, Danny had more than reached his limit.

It would have to be a sneak attack, one from behind. Grab a hold of Danny and silence him anyway he could. One nice blow to the head should do it. If none of the others woke up, they'd be in the clear.

He checked his side. Sure enough, his knife was still there. He never went anywhere without it. If necessary, he wouldn't hesitate to slash Danny's throat, or any of their throats, for that matter. One didn't mess with Jack Kelly and get away with it.

Slowly, Jack rounded the cave so that he would be behind Danny. He put out the torch so as not to alert Danny; the fire there provided more than enough light. Sneak attacks weren't his forte, but the fire was crackling enough that it would cover his footsteps…at least, he hoped so.

* * *

Could it have been that the long, tiring day had finally caught up to David, that he was beginning to hallucinate? Or was the alcohol so strong on Danny's breath that he was becoming drunk just by smelling it? How else could he explain seeing Jack morph from the shadows and begin creeping toward them?

_Keep it cool_, he warned, quickly averting his eyes. He didn't want to give Danny any reason to glance over his shoulder. Not much worry about that, what with Danny still giggling over David's virginity. He wasn't shy of retelling his own sexual conquests, either.

"There was this one gal—one of them saloon girls, you know? All them feathers and lacy corsets? Had this one dance she'd do where she'd lift her leg up over her head. Craziest thing I ever seen. And boy, could she lift 'em when she was horizontal too!" He punctuated his remark with a raucous laugh and a gentle kick to David's leg. "Can you imagine?"

He managed a thin smile. "I'm sure it was pretty great." All this talk of sex was making him uncomfortable. For him, sex had always seemed more like a chore than a pleasure; the kind of sex Danny was talking about, at least.

Danny took another swig from the seemingly-bottomless bottle. The last bit of whiskey drained into his mouth and he tossed the bottle to the side. It broke on impact. "It's getting late," he said, checking his watch. "'Bout another twenty minutes 'til it's Pat's turn. Then I can get some shut eye." He was looking a little weary.

Jack was only a few feet behind him now, ready to pounce. David held his breath, not certain what was going to happen.

He was silent as he leapt onto Danny's back. Jack wrapped his free hand around his mouth to keep him from calling out to the others. Then, he brought Danny's head down to the log on which he'd been sitting. The Parker boy didn't struggle much and blacked out as soon as his head connected with the wood. Satisfied with his handiwork, Jack let the body fall to the ground.

"Jack!" It was louder than David had intended and was met with a shushing and withering glare.

"Shut up, Davy. Can't have them waking up. We're sorely out-numbered, in men and in weapons. Now let me tie him up and then we'll get out of here."

"That ain't about to happen, Kelly."

The voice sent a chill down both of their backs and they turned toward the cave. The remaining Parker brothers were there, James armed with a shot gun which was pointed at Jack and David.

"Not bad work," James said. "Unfortunately for you, Lucky Pat here can sniff out a pig from a mile away."

"Well, you can always smell your own kind," Jack muttered.

But James wasn't laughing. "I don't think this is the best time for you to be making jokes. Now get over there," he said, using the gun to gesture to the side of the cave.

With his hands raised, Jack did as he was told, but his eyes never left David. "Okay, you fellas got what you wanted. Now let him go. He ain't of no use to you."

"I don't think it's your place to tell us what is and isn't of use to us. On your knees, hands on your head."

Jack complied. He didn't want to give them any reason to shoot. If he could just get close enough to jump James…he knew he could get the gun.

But James didn't go near Jack. Instead, he handed the gun off to Tommy and strode to David who was lying on his side. "See, I figure someone's gonna be looking for him. Someone will want to pay to keep him safe."

"Who?" David asked with an incredulous laugh. "I didn't have the upper class life you seem to think I had. I had to work selling newspapers just so my family could eat. The only reason I made it as far as I have is because someone was kind enough to give me a chance in life. I'm not going to let you bleed my parents dry just for me, so you can just as soon go fuck yourself!"

David had rarely ever used foul language in his life. The first time had been when he was three, and a good whipping from his father had shown him that foul language was not welcome in the Jacobs' home. Aside from a couple of slips here and there, he'd always had a squeaky clean vocabulary. Even Jack was surprised by the shouted expletive.

James was surprised too, but he recovered quickly, his mouth twisting into an angry sneer. "I'll show you how to talk to me with a little more respect, rich boy." He kicked David in the gut, forcing all of the air from his lungs. As he lay there, gasping and sputtering, James kicked him again. And again. He got a sense of joy out of seeing the man struggle to even breathe.

David rolled onto his back and began pushing himself back, scrambling to get away from the merciless captor. One more kick to his abdomen could be fatal. As he moved back, his hands fell over something cold and hard…and sharp. The broken bottle fragments. It wouldn't be easy, but he could conceivably cut the ropes and free his hands. They were still armed, but he'd have the element of surprise on his side. He grabbed a piece and furiously began rubbing it against the rope as best he could.

"That's how you got to handle 'em," James said to his brothers. "One good kick to the stomach and they won't backtalk you again. Of course, a bullet to the head can do just as good."

"Yeah, you're a real tough guy," Jack said. "Kicking a guy who can't fight back? That takes a real coward."

"You mean like the way you and your partner chased us down after shooting Tommy in the leg?"

"That was different; scum doesn't count as a human being."

"I should pop you one in that smart mouth of yours."

"But you won't? What? Too intimidated?"

"Mouth off to me one more time and I'll shoot, but it won't be aimed at you. Want to watch your little friend slowly bleed to death?"

David's hands were beginning to bleed from the cuts he'd endured, but otherwise the glass was cutting the ropes more than it was cutting him. Just a little more and he'd be able to slip his hands out.

"Why don't we just settle this?" Jack said. "You and me, man to man. We don't need to bring anyone else into this."

"You want to go up against me, Kelly?"

"That's what I said. You deaf or something?"

The ropes snapped circulation once again returned to David's hands. But he didn't have time to think about that. He jumped up without even thinking and tackled James to the ground in the same manner Jack had tackled Danny.

James, of course, was taken by surprise, as were Tommy and Pat who stood there gaping for a split second before springing into action. Tommy lifted the gun to shoot…but was taken down by Jack before he could so much as tap the trigger. They hit the ground hard with Tommy partially breaking Jack's fall. He took that opportunity to wrestle the rifle from Tommy's hand and then smashed him in the head with the butt of the gun. In a flash he was upon Pat, barrel pointing directly at him. "Looks like your luck has run out this time, Pat. Yours too, James."

But the eldest Parker boy couldn't hear Jack's smartass remark. David, spurned on by anger and embarrassment, had given James a swift kick to the head and it was lights out for him. David towered over him, bloody, beaten, and breathing heavily. Sweat trickled along his cheeks, mingling with the dirt, but he didn't care. All he could care about was the satisfaction in knowing he'd gotten in a good, hard blow.

"Now, do you want to cooperate?" Jacked asked Pat. "Or should we put you to sleep the same way we did your brothers?"


	11. Chapter 11

"I don't think I've ever seen you like that, Davy."

"You thought I was just going to sit there?"

"Nah…I was just surprised."

The two men were huddled near the fire, trying to keep warm in the cold night. By Jack's watch, the sun should be rising within the next hour or so, but for now the sky was pitch black. The four Parker boys were tightly bound together and sitting inside the cave. Jack had relieved them of all their weapons, leaving them unarmed and unable to escape. Once the sun came up, they'd start into town with the criminals. Jack figured they could situate the men on the horses, bound to the saddle so they couldn't fall off, and tie the horses together to keep them all in line. That would leave him and David to share a single horse. The thought of riding against David made him both excited and uncomfortable.

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Jack," David said as he pushed another log into the fire. "Just like there's a lot I don't know about you." He left the comment in the open; he didn't push Jack for details or attempt to bring up the past. Still, Jack heard the unasked question.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, David."

David managed a small smile. "I know. I just felt kind of lost without you. I mean, before I met you, I never dreamed of doing the things I did. I felt and thought things I never would have before. You leaving felt like you were taking a part of me with you. I guess I resented you a little bit. You were out there living your life and I…I was just living up to the expectations my parents had set."

"What? Being a doctor? Don't you like it?"

"I like it well enough," he said with a shrug. "I mean, it's nice to make money and to help people. But I have to admit, just being out here with you for a day has made me feel more alive than I have in a long while. Even between the crummy food and having a gun pointed at me, it was exciting, something new. And, again, you're the reason for it."

"Nah, I just acted like a dumbass and ran out into the desert. You're the one who made the choice to come after me. And thanks for that."

They sat in silence after that, staring into the lapping flames of the fire. Neither wanted to say what they were thinking, afraid the other would react badly. The weight of their feelings hung heavily upon their shoulders, almost suffocating. Finally, Jack could take no more.

"Davy—"

"I'm going to try and get some sleep," David interrupted. "Just give me a poke when you're ready to go."

Jack inwardly groaned, but didn't try again. He watched as David made a small pillow with his arms and curled up on the ground. "Good night, Dave," he whispered.

* * *

They rode into town early the next morning with their prisoners on board behind them. Jack sat behind David on the horse, keeping a tight hold on the reins. David, who had never been on a horse, clutched the grip tightly and emitted soft squeals anytime the horse went faster than the slow gait.

"It ain't that bad," an amused Jack intoned. "You ain't about the fall off or nothing."

"I don't have as much experience with these things as you do," David replied between clenched teeth.

"Maybe I could get this girl going to a gallop, see how you respond to that."

"Don't you dare!"

"Relax, Dave. It's just a joke. Besides, we got too much cargo to gallop," Jack said, nodding his head back to the Parker boys in tow.

The town loomed before them and soon they were strolling past buildings with people greeting Jack. It was the early hours of the morning, but there were still men standing outside their establishments, sweeping the front walks, and women washing the windows as they prepared to open shop for another day.

As Jack and David rode past, all of them stopped to stare. Two men riding by with four others bound and slung over horses; it wasn't something you saw everyday.

"Jack!"

A man about their age wearing a ten gallon hat was racing toward them. His holster bounced with his steps, making his guns clap against his thighs.

"Monroe," Jack greeted. "I suggest you run and tell the Sheriff. We got the Parker boys."

The man—Monroe, David assumed—let out a squeal of joy. "I knew if anyone was to get 'em, it'd be you! The whole town will want to throw you a party, I'm sure!"

"For now, a nice beer would suit me fine. And one for my friend here," he said, nodding his head to David.

"Sure thing! I'll let Sheriff Donner know!" With that, the man ran off in the opposite direction, shouting out to all who would listen that the Parker brothers had finally been captured.

Jack pulled their horse over to the side. "I'll slide off first and then help you," he said. Once David was on the ground, Jack tied the horse off to the post. "We'll bunker here for the night. Then tomorrow I'll get you on a train to Las Vegas. Denton should be waiting for you there."

David couldn't hide his disappointment. He'd imagined that, now that they had been reunited after all these years, they wouldn't be parting so soon. "Right," he said, trying to keep a smile. "I guess he'll be pretty worried."

"Well, can you blame him? You left him on the train while you ran into the desert after me. I'd be worried about you."

"You know, you could always come with me," David suggested. "I mean, I'm sure Medda and the other guys would love to see you too."

"Maybe," Jack replied noncommittally. He brushed the offer aside like a bug from his shoulder. "I suggest we get some real food in you, though. And beer."

"I don't really drink beer."

"Fine, then whiskey or whatever your poison is."

"I don't really drink at all."

Jack held back a laugh. "Well, then you've come to the wrong place. Out here, any respectable man could set his breath on fire."

"I didn't exactly choose to come here." David felt the irritation rising up again. He knew Jack was patronizing him and he hated it.

But they didn't have time to continue to budding spat. At that moment, Monroe rounded the corner with an older man who wore a silver star on the lapel of his shirt. His hair was white and a walrus mustache covered his upper lip. "See? I told you, Sheriff! Jack really did it! He got those Parker boys!"

"So he did." The Sheriff nodded to Jack, offering a hand to him. "Well done, Agent Kelly. I'm sure I speak for the town when I say we are indebted to you."

"It wasn't nothing, Sheriff Donner. In fact, my friend Davy here did most of the work."

"Davy?" Sheriff Donner said, likewise offering David his hand. "But what happened to Willy?"

"Dead, sir. He was shot on the train."

"I see. And where is the body?"

"Should be at the Santa Fe train station. We had to leave it on the train."

"I'll have someone go collect it. He'll be given a proper burial."

"Thank you, sir."

Sheriff Donner turned back to David. "And you are?"

"David Jacobs. I'm from New York."

"You're a long way from home."

"Yes, sir. I came down here with a friend, on our way to Nevada. I ran into Jack and…well, I wanted to help."

Jack slung and arm over David's shoulder. "Davy and me go way back."

"Well, I'm sure you'll need some lodging for the night, Mr. Jacobs."

"Yes, something cheap please." He realized with great embarrassment that he'd left his money with Denton.

"Nonsense! You're a hero! Every innkeeper in town will want you to stay with them, free of charge."

"I couldn't accept that."

"Of course you could, Dave!" Jack intervened. "We both will."

"As for you boys," Donner said, turning to the Parker brothers who had been dismantled from the horses, "I see a noose in all of your futures."

The brothers were led away toward the jail house to be incarcerated until their trial. David imagined that the trial would be swift with little doubt of the men's fates.

"We'll send word to Nevada," Monroe said. "Make sure your friend knows you're both okay. I can get you settled at the inn on Jefferson St. I suggest you both get ready for the party tonight at Town Hall! Everyone there will be buying you drinks!"

* * *

David and Jack were given twin rooms at the inn, with one bath area connecting the two. Neither had much in the way of luggage, nor were they presentable for any sort of party. The local clothing shop offered them new suits, free of charge, as thanks for ridding the town of the notorious outlaws.

David changed after a short wash. The suit was a little big, but he could make do. He buttoned the cuffs and slipped on the jacket, turning to examine himself in the full length standing mirror in the corner. He felt strange, so dressed up. The last time he had worn such a suit had been Les' wedding and the only time before that had been Sarah's wedding.

"Not bad, Jacobs."

He whirled to see Jack standing in the doorway of their shared bath area. He, too, wore a new suit, but he managed to look quite at ease in it.

"Uh, thanks."

"I'm not used to wearing this fancy kind of clothes," Jack said, likewise examining himself in the mirror. David found himself looking Jack over as well. The suit seemed to fit him just right, as though it had been made for his body. Jack had trimmed his facial hair, making him look less like a rugged frontiersman and more like an ordinary citizen of the town. The cowboy hat looked perfectly in place atop his head.

"It suits you." The moment David said the words, he felt a blush creep into his cheeks.

Jack gave him a side-long glance, obviously amused. "Well, thanks, Davy. That means a lot coming from you," he said, giving David a pat on the shoulder. He let his hand rest there for a few seconds, almost lingering.

"Jack…I…"

The door opened and Monroe peeked in. "Well, we got everything all set for you fellas! The food and drinks are all set up, the bands a'playin', and all we're waiting for is our guests of honor!" If Monroe's flushed appearance was any indication, he'd already enjoyed his share of booze. When David passed him, he noted the definite stench of alcohol on Monroe's breath.

"Can't keep the public waiting, huh, Dave?"

"I guess not," he mumbled.

When they stepped out into the town, the sun had already started to set and a cool, thin fog had settled around them. Amid the dark was a large mass of light located at the end of the street. The doors and windows of the Town Hall were open, letting out streams of light. The walls of the building seemed to vibrate as it tried to hold in the music and revelry. So full was the hall that some people had taken to enjoying the festivities outside, with more than one couple seeking comfort in the shadows for some canoodling.

"Don't it remind you of Irving Hall?" Jack asked as he and David made their way to the party.

At that David grinned, recalling thoughts of nights spent sneaking into the show, hiding in the wings as they enjoyed all kinds of acts, ranging from ventriloquists to acrobats. They—him and Jack and, on occasion, Les—would watch each act with wonder, entranced by the bright lights and loud music. Jack would whisper things to him, often disparaging remarks about the poorer acts or lascivious comments about the showgirls. David could remember the way Jack's mouth would sit right beside his ear, his breath brushing against David's skin, his arm slung lazily across David's shoulders. It always made his cheeks turn red. He always claimed it was the scantily-clad girls making him blush, but it wasn't. They were his least favorite part of his trips to Irving Hall.

"Remember the rally?" Jack continued, his own eyes glazing over as he recalled memories of New York and his time with the newsies. "Remember you, me, and Spot up on that stage, get everybody worked up? I never told nobody, but boy was I scared shitless up there."

That was a shock to David. "You were?"

"Well, yeah. It's not easy work going up against powerful guys like Pulitzer and Hearst. And all these guys looking up to me, expecting me to have all the answers? It can make a guy sweat."

David remembered sweating. He remembered sweating up there for a number of reasons, not all of them pertaining to the strike.

"So what were you saying before, Davy?"

"Huh?"

"Up there, in front of the mirror. It looked like you were going to say something."

David feigned ignorance, suddenly shy about continuing his previous thought. "Oh…I don't really remember."

"Oh. Okay. Well, if you do remember," he said, holding the door open for David, "I'm all ears."

They stood in the doorway of the hall, watching the party unfold. A band was on the stage playing as a woman in a red and black dress sang a rousing song, calling upon the townspeople to join in. The bar was open, the liquor flowing freely, and empty shot glasses covered the bar and tables. If you got rid of all the cowboy hats, it would look like your average vaudeville theatre, except rowdier.

The woman on stage took note and pointed to them mid-song, calling for everyone to welcome their heroes. The crowd surged forth and grabbed them, pulling them to their places of honor. They were practically shoved into their seats with fresh drinks placed before them. Before either of them could even get in a word, the women had surrounded Jack, with a pretty blonde perching herself on his lap.

"It was just so brave the way you went after the Parker boys," she cooed.

"Were you scared?" another asked.

Jack was taken aback by the sudden attention, but handled it with his same collected calmness he always had. "Actually, Davy did a lot of the work." But his words were in vain. The women had already latched onto him and there was no dissuading them.

David felt an anger bubble inside of him as he watched. He half-listened as a few other townspeople commended him for a job well-done. His hand clutched the drink; he didn't know what it was and he didn't ask.

"Dance with me?" one of the girls asked, pulling Jack to his feet before he could respond.

And off they went, stomping and twirling across the floor, keeping a haphazard beat in time with the band. Jack mostly let her lead, allowing himself to be pulled along for the ride.

David grabbed his drink and knocked it back, the strong taste only barely registering. He slammed the glass back down on the table, his eyes still affixed on Jack and his partner.

"Another drink, sir?"

"Yeah," he muttered, "and keep them coming."


	12. Chapter 12

By the time Jack had started on his fourth dance, David was just starting on his fifth drink. After downing the first three drinks, common sense had taken hold of him and David had resigned himself to sipping them slowly. Even so, his head was beginning to spin a little as he watched Jack travel the dance floor with a redheaded woman in his arms. No, she wasn't even a woman; she was a girl and couldn't have been more than seventeen-years-old. She barely even reached his shoulders and the feather she wore in her hair tickled beneath his nose.

"Pathetic," he grumbled before taking another sip.

A couple of young women had taken a place beside him at the table, as had some men. The former were trying to flirt while the latter were squeezing him for details on how he and Jack had taken down the Parkers. He shrugged off advances from the women and limited himself to monosyllabic answers to the men. He was embarrassed to be so rude to the people who were treating him like a king, but he didn't have the patience that night to fake politeness.

The song ended and the musicians announced that they would be taking a short break. Jack returned to the table with the redhead latched onto his arm. He was sweating and panting, but he seemed happy. "You gonna dance, Davy?"

"I'm not much of a dancer."

"Nothing to it. Just make sure you don't step on her feet." The girl giggled at that as though it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard.

"I'd rather not."

"Well, you can't just sit here like a stump all night! It's a party!"

"Jack, I should probably head out soon to Las Vegas. I mean, Denton is likely wondering where I am. I'm surprised he hasn't alerted the cops and sent out a search team yet."

"You won't be getting a train tonight," one of the men said, giving him a strong pat on the back. "May as well enjoy this while you can. We got the prettiest girls this side of the Mississippi. It'd be an honor to dance with any one of them."

And they were pretty, even David could admit that. But he wasn't interested.

"I'm sorry," he said as he stood, "but I need to get some fresh air. I think I've had too much to drink."

As he stumbled around them, David could hear the laughs from the other men surrounding the table. The word "lightweight" was thrown around from all sides, making his face turn red and his stomach churn. Or maybe that was just the last whiskey he'd had.

David pushed through the swinging doors of the Town Hall and took a seat on the nearby steps. He shrugged off the heavy jacket and tossed it to the side. Then, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves as far as he could. He felt smothered in his own skin and could barely catch his breath.

Why did he have to run into Jack after all these years? Why did he have to run into him under these circumstances? Their time spent together had awakened feelings inside that he'd tried hard to lock away and the more they burst out the more difficult it was to keep them under control.

Why couldn't life be so much simpler?

"You okay, David?"

"I'm fine," he grumbled.

"You sure? You don't look too good."

"I said I'm fine."

"If you say so." Jack took a seat beside him and removed his own jacket. "I tell you one thing I don't miss about New York – that night sky," he said, pointing upward where hundreds of stars twinkled in the darkness.

"I didn't think there was anything about New York that you missed."

"Did I say something to offend you?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because you've been running hot and cold since the day we got off that train. I know I haven't been a ray of sunshine myself and I probably deserve most of what you've said. But I thought we'd gotten over it. We've been laughing all day, enjoying ourselves, and now you're in one of your moods again, pissed off at me and at the world, and I don't know why."

David wasn't about to answer that. He stood up, grabbing his coat, and began walking off toward the inn. "This has all just been a mistake. I shouldn't have gotten off that train. I shouldn't have followed you. I shouldn't have stayed here. I should be in Las Vegas with Denton right now, not here."

"Davy, if I've done something wrong just tell me!"

"Don't you think you'd better get back in there? I'm sure there's a line of girls just waiting to have you grope them."

"Is that what this is about? If you want a girl I can get you one. They all love a hero."

"That's not it!" David snapped. "I…you just don't understand, okay, Jack? Let's leave it at that."

But Jack wasn't about to leave it at that. "How do you know I wouldn't understand?"

"Because I know you."

"What? You think I'm stupid or something? Because I didn't get some bleeding-heart millionaire to pay my way through life?"

"That's not what I said! Stop putting words in my mouth."

"Maybe if you'd actually talk it out with me I wouldn't have to put words in your mouth."

"I just want to be left alone, Jack. I've got a train to catch tomorrow morning and then you and I can go on with our separate lives, just like we have for the past ten years."

"Well, maybe I don't want that."

"It's what you wanted before. Remember?"

"Maybe I changed my mind. A guy's allowed to change his mind."

"Well, I've changed my mind too. I don't care why you left and I don't care what you do with the rest of your life. I hope you're happy with whichever of them you end up with."

"Whichever what?"

"Whichever of those women you end up with."

"Who says I want to be with any of them?"

David couldn't help but laugh at that. "Well, they are the prettiest girls this side of the Mississippi," he said, parroting what he'd been told.

"Maybe I want something from the other side of the Mississippi."

If Jack thought that would calm David's nerves he was wrong. Instead, David quickened his pace, eyes set on the inn as he walked. He didn't look Jack in the eyes until he was grabbed by the arm and spun around to face him. He leveled Jack with a stern look and yanked himself from the grasp. "Let me go."

"Not until you calm the hell down and tell me what's wrong."

"So now you suddenly want to talk about things? Now, after you've shot me down every time I've tried? Well, too bad, Jack. I'm not in the mood for talking."

"Then you're gonna listen," he said, grabbing David once again and holding firm. "Remember when I told you I had kept in touch with some of the other guys? Well, I did. I kept in touch with Bumlets for seven years, writing letters back and forth until he joined Medda's show. He and I talked through a lot of things through those letters, things that had me worried. These are things that could have made a lot of trouble for us if anyone ever saw it."

"What? Did you guys murder someone or something?" David asked sarcastically.

"Davy, I did leave New York because of you, but not the reason you think. I wasn't afraid of you holding me back; I was afraid that I'd be the one holding your back. I was afraid I'd mess everything up for you."

"Jack, what are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

"Did you ever see Bumlets with a girl?"

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question."

David considered the question. He had never been that close a friend with Bumlets, but he had enjoyed many nights out with all of the newsies. Most of them had brought dates along when they could get them or would seek out a date at whichever dance hall they went to. But the more he thought about it the more David realized he couldn't recall ever seeing Bumlets with a girl. Not with one the way the other newsboys had been with their girls: an arm around her shoulders, knees pressed under the table, bodies pressed together as they danced. He seemed more comfortable alone…or just with the guys.

"What are you saying, Jack?"

"I stumbled across him and some guy one night. They were in some alley behind a bar, both naked from the waist down. Bumlets, he begged me not to tell anyone, said he didn't want the other guys to think he was a sissy or something. And until now I never told a soul about Bumlets or that night, because that was the night that I realized I wasn't some sort of freak, that it was okay for me to be the way I was."

"You mean you're…"

"I'm saying I'm queer."

For the first time that night David was speechless. "But…but you and Sarah…"

"I was trying to hide who I was, Davy. I wanted to pretend like I was like all of the other guys. But when I saw how happy Bumlets was being who he was I knew I couldn't go through with it. Wouldn't have been fair to Sarah or to me."

"So what has this all got to do with me?"

It was Jack's turn to laugh this time. "You still don't get it, do you? I left because I was afraid."

"Of me?"

"Of what I might do if I was around you."

Slowly, realization began to dawn on David. "You liked me."

"I _loved_ you," Jack said. "Maybe I still do. You being here has definitely made me remember some feelings."

"Jack…I-"

"You don't need to say nothing. I owed you the truth, even if it means I won't see you again. You can go ahead back to the inn. I understand if you don't want me in the room next to yours, but you don't need to worry; I'll probably be in the saloon until dawn."

David remained stuck in his place, watching as Jack retreated. A sense of déjà vu washed over him as he recalled a similar instance ten years earlier. Back then he'd been too scared to run after what he'd wanted and let Jack slip away from him. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

He ran and grabbed Jack's arm, pulling him into the shadows between the bank and the general store. "David, what are you-?" Jack's question was squelched as David's lips met his. Once he got over the initial shock, Jack returned the kiss at full force, letting one hand rest on the back of David's waist while the other grabbed at his head of curls.

David responded by running his hands up along Jack's chest until they came to rest on his shoulders. He pressed himself into Jack, enjoying the way their bodies seemed to fit together.

Finally, they broke apart, pulling away slowly as they savored every last taste of each other. They couldn't see it in the darkness, but each one was sporting flushed cheeks. The only sound in the silence was their heavy breathing.

"I have something to tell you," David said between pants. "I'm queer too."

* * *

That night found Jack and David sharing a single bed. This time there was no discomfort for either of them as they each reveled in the other's touch. David's back was pressed up against Jack's bare chest and Jack let his arm hang over David's waist, holding him protectively. David's hand rested atop Jack's, their fingers clumsily intertwined as they slept.

* * *

**AN: **Finally we get to the part I think you've been waiting for! And this isn't the end of the story. There's still a little more on the way.


	13. Chapter 13

David awoke early the next morning, determined not to miss the earliest train into Las Vegas. He paused to smile at Jack, still snoring with his arm wrapped around David. Then he frowned. Jack's home was here. He had made it clear that he had no intention of going to Las Vegas or anywhere else. At least, he had before their kiss. Would things have changed?

There was only one way to find out.

"Jack," he whispered, giving his companion a small nudge.

"Whaisit?" Jack mumbled.

"We've got to get up."

"Not yet, Willy…still tired."

"I'm not Willy," David said, giving Jack a harder shake. "Remember?"

Jack's eyes managed to peel open, fluttering a few times as they grew accustomed to the light. They slowly scanned the room with uncertainty before landing on David, standing at the edge of the bed, completely naked. Then a smile slipped across his face.

"Hey, Davy. Lookin' good."

David blushed and scurried to grab his clothes.

"No need to be embarrassed," said Jack as he slipped out of bed, "I saw it all last night."

That only made David blush more furiously. "It was dark last night," he said, fumbling with his trousers. "It's different in the morning."

"Not really." Jack reached out a hand and grabbed the pants. "I want to get the full look."

"Jack…"

"Just turn around."

David did as instructed, standing there awkwardly as Jack's eyes roamed across his body. He had never felt so vulnerable before. Even though they had made love the night before (his first time!) there was still a shyness around Jack, as though they were young lovers meeting for the very first time. In a way, they were; now they were meeting one another, not as simply friends or partners, but as lovers, finally able to express their feelings.

Jack, satisfied with his inspection, leaned forward and placed a kiss on David's collarbone. He enjoyed the small shiver David gave as he did so.

"Guess we'd better get breakfast before we leave?" he said, returning the trousers to David.

David's heart leapt in his throat. "Y-you mean you'll come with me?"

"Of course. Don't want to miss a chance to see old friends. Besides, I've got to keep an eye on you," he added, giving David a pat on the butt. "Wouldn't want you running off with some other beautiful man."

The two of them dressed quickly and packed their new clothes, along with some gifts the town had given them. The inn had a small café downstairs where they managed to grab coffee and a bite to eat before getting a ride to the train station. This time, David didn't even mind the young women who were flirting with Jack. He knew that at the end of the day he'd be the one in Jack's arms.

When they were safely on the train, David leaned back in his seat to catch a quick nap. While asleep, his head tilted onto Jack's shoulder. Jack just let it stay there.

* * *

"There you two are!"

When they departed the train, Jack and David saw Denton running toward them. In the three days they had been separated, it looked as though his hair had gone greyer from worry. He also looked as if he hadn't slept well, either.

"Do you know how worried I've been?" he asked. "I didn't know if I should get the police or just start my own search party."

"Glad to know we were missed," Jack said with a smirk.

"How did you know we'd be arriving on this train?" David asked.

"I didn't. When I arrived I went to Medda's and explained what had happened. We decided to take turns waiting at the station in case you got here. We had a rotating shift with Blink and Bumlets from the time the station opened to when it closed. Of course, with them having rehearsals during the day and shows in the evening, I spent most of the time here. I think employees were starting to think I was a vagrant or something."

David was flattered to know his and Jack's well-being had been of great concern, not only to Denton, but to their other old friends. "Thanks," he said, giving Denton a pat on the back, "after these past couple of days, it was nice for us to see a familiar face."

"Well, you look like you've come out pretty well," he said, giving them a look-over as though he were a father inspecting his kids after they'd had a long day of playing out in the street. "So do you want to give me the story here or wait until we're at the theatre and tell everyone at once?"

"That depends," said Jack as they stepped out of the train station. "How long will it take us to get to the theatre?"

"About twenty minutes on foot."

"Not nearly long enough to get it all in. Let's wait until we're there."

As they made the quick journey to the theatre where Medda was playing, David marveled at the new city. It wasn't quite rural, like the town where they'd just been. There were more big businesses, paved streets, and even a few apartment buildings. But it also wasn't as urban as New York, especially as it still rested along the edge of the desert. Las Vegas seemed to be a melding of two different worlds into one.

Jack seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Nice place," he said as they passed what looked to be a high-end hotel. There was even a doorman.

"It's got a certain charm," Denton agreed. "Though, I'd be careful. At night it can be just as dangerous as New York. And I wouldn't ask to be dealt into any poker games either."

"Why's that?"

"Well, for one thing the city just passed a law banning gambling, so you're liable to get into trouble with the law. Even if you don't, people around here seem to take their card games seriously and aren't squeamish about winning at all costs."

"How do you know this?" David asked. "You've only been here three days and you've never struck me as the gambling type."

Denton smiled in a secretive way. "I asked the owner of the theatre why he was missing two fingers and got more information than I ever wanted to know about Las Vegas' underground gambling." He didn't elaborate further and they didn't ask him to.

The theatre – The Jewel Theatre, as the sign proclaimed it – looked much like Irving Hall from the outside. There was no cut-out of Medda atop the awning, but there was a poster outside proclaiming that Medda Larkson and her Knickerbocker Boys would be performing there exclusively for the next month. The poster showed a caricature of Medda, with plump, pursed lips, heavily lidded eyes, and her fiery red hair cascading down her bare shoulders. The drawing only depicted her head and shoulders, but it gave the illusion that when she had posed for it – if she had at all – she hadn't been wearing much.

"We're staying at a hotel down the street," Denton said as he held the door open for them, "but I imagine Medda will want to see you right away. She was in something of a fit when I told her I had left you two in the desert."

The inside of the theatre proved to be quite different than Irving Hall. It was smaller, for starters, with a few tables set up around the stage. The rest of the space was just a few rows of chairs set up along the back. There was a balcony, but it lacked the grandiose appearance of the one the newsies had inhabited many nights when they'd gone to see Medda's shows. David craned his neck upward and saw that there were only a few mismatched chairs up at the top.

The stage was quite large, but also quite dull. There were no footlights around the rim, nor was there any visible pit for the musicians. The curtains that hung around it were ratty, made of a heavy, stiff material, and were a deep shade of blue, not at all like the rich red velvet curtains that had hung in Irving Hall.

"Come on," Denton said, leading them back, "they're likely back here eating lunch."

The backstage area was cramped, with large set pieces, racks of costumes, and small props strewn about. To the left was a small dressing room with the word "Boys" written on the door. To the right was what appeared to be another dressing room, this one reading "Medda" in the middle of a gold star. The door was closed, but voices could be heard from within.

"We'll need to rework that number with you and Geoffrey now that we've been told we can't use the fire," she was saying when they opened the door. She and her six chorus boys were crammed into her dressing room as they ate sandwiches from off a tray. She was seated at her make-up table while the others found space either in a chair or on the floor. "Mind you, I don't understand the big deal. It's not as though we've ever burned down a building before."

Medda turned to grab her drink and that's when she caught sight of them. Her eyes twinkled. "Well, well…if it isn't the famous duo themselves."

She looked older, a fact that shouldn't have been surprising to them, yet was. Medda had always seemed ageless, as though she would never succumb to the grey hairs and wrinkles that plagued others. She hid them well, but there were still some stubborn patches of grey around her temples and a few stray lines across her face. When she stood to greet them with hugs, they saw that she also had a different gait, as though her body was finally beginning to feel the strain of decades of dancing and performing. But she was still a stunning woman, and a friend they had both missed dearly.

"I'm glad to see that the desert didn't get you," she said, giving Denton a look. "Come in! We're just having lunch. Help yourself to a sandwich."

David, not wanting to take advantage of her hospitality, was about to decline, but his grumbling stomach beat him to it. Jack wasted no time in grabbing some food and settling down next to Bumlets, who, David noticed, gave Jack a cryptic look.

"Welcome back, Davy!" came a voice from behind him before he was enveloped in a tight hug.

"Hey, Blink! Good to see you."

Of all of them, Blink seemed to have aged the least in the past ten years. He still had his boyish good looks and a wide, mischievous grin. His ever-present eye patch hadn't gone anywhere either.

"So, you must tell us where you two have been for the past three days, boys," Medda said. "I'm sure it'll be an exciting story."

Jack and David took turns telling the story, starting from the train robbery and continuing on through the previous night. They left out the matter of their confessions and kiss the previous night, however, not yet sure if they wanted to divulge that much.

"Heroes once again," Medda marveled once they had finished. "I think trouble just follows you around when you're together."

"It follows Jack," David said, shaking his head. "He just manages to pull me along for the ride."

"And you wouldn't have it any other way," Jack said.

"Well, I'm sure you're both tired after your little adventure. Let Denton bring you over to the hotel. We need to get in more rehearsal time anyway. You'll both come for the show tonight, though," she said as a statement rather than a question. "I'm afraid the theatre – if you can even _call_ it a theatre – doesn't hold a candle to Irving Hall, but it's the best we've got at the moment."

They said their good-byes for the time being, promising to be there that evening.

* * *

"I gotta say, this is probably the nicest place I ever stayed in," Jack said as he fell onto the bed. David opted to sit on the edge of it and look around. He had to admit it was a step up from most of the hotels he'd been in (not that he'd been in many). The queen bed had soft sheets and a heavy blanket. In the corner was a small writing desk with chair to the left a wardrobe large enough to sleep in, and to the right was a settee that was only starting to show wear. The bathroom had a shaving bowl, small tub, and towels, along with a small assortment of toiletries.

Denton had shown them to their room, apologizing that he had only been able to get one for them to share. "I'm sure that after sleeping out in a desert, though, you won't mind having to share a bed," had said on their way up. He hadn't noticed the look they shared behind his back.

"Did you ever think you'd run into me, Denton, and Medda again?" David asked.

"Nah. I figured I'd seen the last of you all." He turned over so that he was lying on his back. "Now that it's happened, though…I'm glad it did."

There had been a small question lingering in the back of David's mind all day, one that he wasn't sure he wanted to ask. "Jack…?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going to happen after this?"

"After what?"

"This trip. What happens when Denton is done and we go back to New York?"

Jack was silent for a moment, his eyes avoiding David's. "Do you have to go back?" he asked quietly.

"I have a life there, Jack. I have a business."

"Yeah…yeah, I know."

"But…well, you could come with me, right?"

Jack didn't respond.

"I'm sure everyone would be happy to see you."

"You got your life there; I got my life here," Jack said. "Doesn't exactly seem fair, does it?"

It didn't seem fair at all. It had taken them ten years to get here and now it looked like they'd be torn apart once more.

"How about this," Jack said as he reached up and pulled David down to lie beside him. "We'll enjoy our time here and not make any decisions just yet. When it's time to leave…well, we'll cross that bridge once we get there. Okay?"

"Okay," David agreed, though he still wasn't satisfied.

Jack pressed his face against David's neck. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you too."

And, somehow, that made things seem far less bleak.

* * *

**AN: **We're starting to wrap this up! Only one or two more chapters to go! Thanks for the reviews :)


	14. Chapter 14

The Jewel Theatre was packed that night, with rowdy patrons filling every seat, eager to see the show. Most of them were men who had been lured there by Medda's portrait outside, hoping she would be as beautiful in person as it depicted. There were also women there, though, hoping to see the Knickerbocker Boys and hoping they would be just as scantily dressed. All of the patrons were enjoying the alcohol that the theatre served and by the time the show opened very few of them were sober.

David, Jack, and Denton had been given a private box to the right of the stage. It offered them a perfect view of the show, as well as a peek at what was happening backstage. David sat between the two of them, with Jack to his right, trying to conspicuously slip his hand into David's. David shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping Denton didn't notice their public display of affection.

The show began with a spectacular opening number. As Medda sang an up tempo, belting song, the boys performed various talents behind her, including some acrobatics, juggling, and magic tricks. The show itself was a hodgepodge of different sets, some showcasing Medda and some the boys themselves. Blink and Bumlets were featured more heavily than some of the others, often taking front and center for the dance numbers. Bumlets also had the opportunity to show off his acrobatic skills, along with one of the other boys, a red-headed boy David remembered as being called Ethan. There were also variety numbers that involved magic, juggling, ventriloquism, and even a fire dance (it looked like Medda had won that battle).

What surprised David was how little of Medda they actually saw. She would pop up now and then to perform a song, a couple by herself and more with the boys backing her up. While she was still in strong voice, there was something different about seeing her on stage. She wasn't the same vivacious performer who had enthralled him ten years ago while they'd hidden from Snyder. Her body didn't have the same fluidity as it moved and her eyes didn't sparkle in the lights. She became more and more tired as the night went on, and by the last number he was certain she would collapse at any moment.

If the other patrons thought her performance was anything less than perfect, though, they didn't show it. By the end, it was hard to even hear her above the applause and catcalls. David knew, though, that this wasn't the same Medda who had lit up Irving Hall night after night.

They slipped backstage after the show to congratulate their friends. The set and props flew around them as the crew prepared reset everything for the next show. Boys in various states of undress also ran past, some already wiping away the greasepaint, hurrying to their dressing rooms to change and head out to enjoy a drink at the bar.

"Hey, Davy!"

He turned and saw Blink rushing toward him. He was with two other boys, the one on the middle with his arms wrapped around the others' shoulders as they helped support his weight. He was limping on his right leg.

"I know you're off duty, doc, but think you could take a look at Joey's leg?" Blink asked as they settled the hurt boy into a chair.

"What happened," David asked as he knelt down.

"Landed on it wrong during that last back flip," Joey said through gritted teeth.

David had noticed a bit of a mishap in the last number, but the boy hadn't shown any sign of pain onstage. He lifted Joey's leg and pulled off his shoe and sock. "It looks like it's just sprained," he said after giving his ankle a thorough look. "It should probably be okay soon, but I'd recommend putting an ice pack on it and staying off of it as much as possible."

"You can miss tomorrow night's performance." Medda had come up behind them to see what was happening. "Lenny will fill in for your numbers."

"Aw, but Medda!"

"No 'buts.' That's doctor's orders, right David?" she said, throwing a wink his way.

"Right."

With Joey taken care of, David stood and turned to join Jack and Denton, but found that they had disappeared into the backstage chaos. He frowned, wondering where they had gotten to.

"How'd you like the show?"

He turned and saw Bumlets passing into the boys' dressing room. He flicked his head to the side, indicating that David should follow him.

"It was great," he said. "I never realized how talented you were."

"Thanks," Bumlets said as he began wiping away the make-up with a towel. "You know, getting this gig was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"So you're going to stick with it?"

"As long as my body will let me. So how about you?"

"I guess I'll stick with my job as long as I can too."

"That's not what I meant." Bumlets threw the towel to the side and turned to face David. "I meant you and Jack."

"Oh. So you know about that."

"Well, I've known about Jack's feeling for quite some time. I didn't know about the two of you until this afternoon, though."

"How?"

"I just got a sense. The way you stood together, the way you looked at each other. It just seemed right."

David blushed. "Jack told me…about you."

"Yeah, I figured," Bumlets said with a small smile.

"Why didn't you ever tell anyone?"

"Because a boy saying he likes kissing other boys doesn't usually go over so well."

"You could have told the other newsies."

"Could I?" he asked. "Don't get me wrong, David; I loved the guys, but I can't imagine most of them would have taken too kindly to it. Maybe I'm wrong, but I didn't want to lose the only family I had at the time. I was just relieved that I had the chance to confide in Jack. I mean, if the famous Jack Kelly doesn't think there's anything wrong with me…well, that's a pretty good feeling."

"Yeah…I know what you mean."

"So you and Jack are finally together."

"For now," David said glumly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that he's got his life and I've got mine."

"That doesn't mean anything. Your life is what you make it. Is Jack important to you?"

"Yes."

"Then why not make his life your life?"

It was such a simple question. After all, a job in New York wasn't that much different than a job out here. What did he have in New York anyway? An apartment with no one there. What did the town really matter if he would have someone waiting for him when he got home?

"Do you really think it's just that easy?" David asked.

"I never said it was easy, but if it's important to you it's worth the difficulty."

As David mulled that over the door to the dressing room opened and Ethan, Bumlets' acrobats partner came in. "Nice work tonight," he said as he walked past David, giving him a nod. He leaned down to Bumlets and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Just remember to start the back walkover a beat sooner. I almost landed on your head."

David was aghast. He had never actually seen a guy kiss another guy, even on the cheek. Each time he and Jack kissed they made sure no one was watching. The fact that Ethan could so nonchalantly kiss Bumlets shocked him.

Catching David's expression, Ethan turned back to Bumlets. "I thought you said he and that Jack fellow…?"

"They are," Bumlets said, holding back a laugh. "I just don't think David is used to seeing guys show their love so openly."

"You–you guys?" he said. "Do the others know?"

"Of course they do. It's not easy to hide when it's six guys to a bedroom."

"And they don't care?"

Bumlets smiled. "I told you this gig was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I thought_ I_ was the best," Ethan said.

"Okay, second best. The thing is, David, show business is like a world all its own. If you think Ethan and I are the only queer ones, you are sadly mistaken."

"So…so Blink?"

"Nah, he's still a ladies man. But he doesn't judge us or any of the guys." He looked back toward Ethan with a loving expression. "This is a safe place for us."

David knew when Bumlet said "us" and didn't just mean him and Ethan; he meant all men like them.

"Excuse me," he said, suddenly starting to feel like a third wheel, "I have to go find Jack."

* * *

While David was chatting with Bumlets, Jack had slipped outside to enjoy a cigarette. The evening was warm, but the backstage area had been too noisy for him. He'd needed a quiet place to think about him and David.

He loved him. He'd known that for years. But how were they supposed to proceed, now living worlds apart?

"Thought I'd find you out here, Cowboy?"

Medda had changed was wearing a tattered silk robe over what Jack assumed was very little clothing. She had cold cream smeared on her face and her red curls were pulled back into a tight bun.

"Can I bum a smoke?"

He handed her a cigarette and struck a match. "That was one heck of a show," he said as he lit the end of her cigarette. "You were wonderful."

She smiled. "I could always tell when you were lying."

"I wasn't lying."

"The boys were wonderful," she said. "I was lucky to even make it to the third number, let alone through the entire show."

"You were just having an off night."

"I've been having too many off nights there days." She took a deep drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke out in a cline line. "I guess it's finally catching up with me, all those years of performing. You get up at dawn to get to the theatre, to rehearse the set twice before lunch and then you perform it over and over, late into the night, and wake up the next morning to do it again. After a while it just gets to be too much."

"You've still got a few more years on you."

She laughed. "How old do you think I am, honey?"

"I dunno. How old are you?"

"It's impolite to ask a lady her age, Kelly," she said cheekily. "But I'll tell you I'm older than you think, and I'm old enough to know when it's time to throw in the towel."

"So what'll you do then?"

"Well, I've still got the boys. I can still teach them, direct them. And I've got this," she said, gesturing to the building.

"What?"

"The Jewel Theatre. The owner's looking to sell and I just happen to have enough socked away to buy it."

"This place? I thought you hated it. You said it wasn't even a real theatre."

"All the more reason for me to buy it. I can make it one."

He was in awe of how Medda could just walk away from the thing she had known for so long like it was nothing. "You love performing."

"I love projects, Jack, and this place and my boys will give me one." She threw the cigarette to the ground and used the sole of her shoe to put it out. "It doesn't matter what you're doing, really, as long as you love the people you're with. Besides, I've got a feeling that in a few years this town will really be booming. I've got a chance to get in on the ground floor."

"You know, I think you're right." Jack looked up into the night sky. "This place looks like it's got potential."

"So you thinking about moving?"

He shrugged. "I don't think I'm gonna be a Pink again."

"No?"

"Nah. To be honest, life as a cowboy isn't really what I imagined."

"It never is."

"So yeah, maybe I could live here. I'd have to find a job. Maybe working for an up and coming theatre?" he said, giving her a sidelong view.

"I'll need a new bartender."

"I know my way around bars."

"Maybe someone who can also help out backstage."

"I know my way around that too."

"And, of course, someone to help us out when one of the boys gets hurt."

Jack frowned. "Well, now that I can't do."

"I wasn't talking about you, Kelly."

"Oh."

"I assumed you and David would be sticking together."

"Well, you assumed wrong. He's got a job back in New York."

"And he's got you here. I don't think he's going to give you up that easily."

"What are you-?"

"You two don't fool me, Jack. I see the way you look at him. It's fine if you don't want me to spread it around, but between you and me I can't imagine any of my boys giving you grief for it. If anything some of them will probably be sore to know you're taken."

"What about Denton?"

"Well, Ethan and Bumlets can barely keep their hands off each other and he hasn't flinched. Now, what are we going to do about you and David?"

"There's nothing to do. He'll be heading off soon and I won't."

"Then maybe you need to do a little more to convince him to stay."

"What can I do?"

"Give him a reason to stay."

"Like what?"

She smiled and walked back to the door. "Think about it. You'll know what to say."

Jack stayed in place as she reentered the building. He leaned back as he enjoyed the last few puffs on his cigarette, thinking about the past few days. He thought about how exciting it had been to be with David again, what a relief it had been to finally express his feelings, and how wonderful it had been the sleep beside him these last couple of nights.

The door behind him creaked open. "Jack?" It was David.

"Yeah?"

"Medda said you were out here."

"I just needed a smoke."

"I was just talking to Bumlets."

"Oh yeah? What'd he have to say?"

"A lot, actually. I've been thinking about, you know, us."

"Me too." He snuffed out the cigarette. "I've been thinking about ten years ago, how stupid I was to run away from my problems instead of facing them, how I missed out on so much because I was too scared to fight for what I wanted."

He turned to face David. "I don't want to lose this. Not now, not after all we've been through. If I have to fight for you I will, but I'm not just going to run away again."

David's breath caught in his throat. It was nice to know he was worth fighting for.

"And really, what difference does it make where you're a doctor? I mean, being a doctor here is the same as being a doctor in New York, isn't it? Sure, you'll have to build up a client base out here, but with Medda and the guys you've already got a start, right? And we could get a place somewhere, a small place, just one bedroom – it shouldn't cost too much. Right?"

"What about you and the Pinkertons?"

"I don't think I could go back. I've paid my dues as a cowboy. Now I want something simple and steady. Medda's offered me a job here anyway, so I'd be keeping busy."

David smiled. "That sounds like a good deal. Denton thinks this town is going to see a pretty big boom."

"Yeah, that's what Medda's saying. A brand new city in the United States. Isn't that a good place to start a brand new life?"

He took a step toward David, lifting a hand to his cheek. He ran a thumb along David's jaw line. "I think there's a reason we ended up on that same train, David. It was supposed to happen that way. We were always supposed to be together."

David could barely breathe. He closed is eyes and leaned into Jack's touch. "I think so…I think that this is right."

"Does that mean you'll stay?"

He nodded. "Yeah…it does."

There, beneath the twinkling Las Vegas sky, the two of them shared a kiss. It was more than a kiss, though; it was the promise of a new life, a life that had been a long time coming for them both.

* * *

**AN:** So I'm going to write a little epilogue to cap it off, but this is pretty much the end! Thanks to everyone who stuck with me on this :)


	15. Epilogue

The place was packed, stuffed to the brim with patrons, all there to see the much talked-about Knickerbocker Boys. They were said to be the hottest thing in Las Vegas and the crowds seemed to agree.

"One double whiskey on the rocks, a sazerac, and one Manhattan," Jack said, handing the drinks off with a charming smile. "Enjoy the show, folks."

"Thank you ever so much," said the woman who took the Manhattan. She gave Jack a quick wink before joining two older people he assumed to be her parents. Judging by their clothes and matching scowls he assumed they were quite rich and incredibly bothered by their young daughter flirting with a bartender. He gave her a wide smile just to annoy them more.

"She was pretty."

He turned to see a sullen David approaching, no happier with the flirting than the girl's parents.

"You jealous, Davy?"

"Wouldn't you be if I were flirting with another woman?"

"Come on, you know me. I don't have any interest in her. Now Mitch is another story," he said, refering to one of the younger men in the show who had come onto Jack on more than one occasion.

David rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well I don't think he'll be trying to dance with you anytime soon. He fell down the stairs backstage and I think he has a broken leg. I'm waiting for someone to come pick him up and get him to the hospital."

"You push him?"

"Of course not. Even though I've wanted to a couple of times," David muttered. "He was trying to show off and he slipped."

Jack was certain he heard David add, "Serves him right" under his breath.

"I figured some alcohol might help numb the pain," he said, grabbing one of the spirits from behind the bar. "Or at least he'll pass out and stop wailing."

"Take the gin," Jack suggested. "That'll knock him out in no time."

"Thanks." He reached for the bottle, but Jack pulled it back, out of his grasp.

"What? Don't I get a good luck kiss tonight?"

"You don't need luck; you're the bartender."

"Aw, you're hurting my feelings."

"Jack, I've got to get back to my patient."

"He can deal for another minute, Davy."

A small smile crept over David's face. "Well, I guess that's true. But are you sure you want to do it out here in the open? What if someone sees us?"

Jack didnt' answer. He leaned in, capturing David's lips with his own. David was more than happy to return the favor.

When they broke apart, Jack was all smiles. "Worth the risk," he said.

It had been three months since their chance encounter on the train, since they had rekindled their friendship and had discovered the romance that almost never was. They had managed to settle down nicely in the new town. David had found them an apartment near the theater and had set up his office in town, providing general care to all, as well as serving as on-site medic for the theater. He had also called his parents to tell them of his move. Whether or not he had told them everything, Jack didn't know.

Denton had returned to New York to finish his story, proudly send them a copy to read for themselves. Even a couple of the other newsies had sent messages, hoping they could make the trip to visit them sometime.

Medda, in the meantime, had remained true to her word, buying the Jewel Theater and renovating it into a theater like no other in the state. She had gracefully fazed herself out of the performances, leaving the boys to enjoy the spotlight. While the marquee still proclaimed her as part of the act, she remained mostly offstage, only performing a single song now and then. She seemed much happier to be on the other side of the business these days.

"Did you ever think you'd be here?" Jack asked.

"Be where?"

"In a Las Vegas theater kissing me?"

"I have to admit, the idea never crossed my mind until recently."

"Yeah, me neither." He ran a finger along David's cheek. "I thought I'd lost you all those years ago."

"Me too, Jack."

He pulled David against him, resting his head atop David's "I guess I just had to put my faith that destiny would make it right."

The past had caught up with them at last. And neither would have had it any other way.

* * *

**AN:** And that's the end! Thanks for sticking with me!


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